


Make Christmas Your Bitch

by AndiLand (AndiMarquette)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Magic, Clexa, Clexa is Endgame, Clexmas, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, I'm a sucker for holiday fluff #sorrynotsorry, Light Angst, Secret Santa, Slow Burn Clarke Griffin/Lexa, holiday fluff, longtime friends to lovers finally jfc just do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-10-01 22:56:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 155,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17252960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndiMarquette/pseuds/AndiLand
Summary: Clarke Griffin is an established artist who owns a gallery in Polis, outside Washington, D.C. Lexa Woods is an attorney based in New York City. She and Clarke have been friends for years, since they met in college, and there have always been sparks, but for whatever reasons, the timing just wasn't right, though their friends have been shipping them practically forever and trying to get them together.Finally, this Christmas, they've each decided it's time to tell the other how they really feel. So they both come up with rather elaborate plans to do just that (because Clexa, amirite?), made easier because Lexa will be in Polis.But, of course, when you've got secret plans and a bunch of well-meaning friends stirring the pot, things might get a little confusing.P.S. this is mostly total fluff with some smut thrown in. Also, Clexa is endgame.POVs: mostly Clarke and Lexa, but for funsies, there are brief scenes from Octavia's POV, Raven's POV, and Anya's POV.Standard disclaimer: I don't own these characters (except the ones I made up) or anything else to do with The 100. I'm just here writing Clexa fanfic.





	1. Extra Secret Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is stressing about a big art show she has coming up but she's got Lexa on her mind. And it appears Octavia and Raven are plotting.

“You know I am totally not going to tell you,” Clarke said as she hefted the painting onto its hook on the wall. Octavia helped her get it centered.

“C’mon. It’s Christmas.” Octavia gave her an exaggerated eyeroll, which was kind of funny. She had her hair pulled back today, and it framed the planes of her face nicely.

Clarke stepped back to make sure the painting wasn’t crooked. “And?” she said after a few more seconds.

“So share some cheer and tell me who your Secret Santa mission is.”

“Raven put you up to this, didn’t she?”

Octavia didn’t respond and Clarke rolled her eyes. “I knew it.” She went back into the storage area and started unwrapping another painting, this one a bit smaller than the other. “And I’m not going to tell you. Because what if _you’re_ my Secret Santa target?” She wasn’t. She had Jasper this year. But she also had another Secret Santa project she was working on and there was no way in hell she was going to tell anyone in the crew about that.

Octavia stood in the doorway, watching. “How about this? Tell me who it’s not.”

“Because that’s different…how?” She carefully tore the rest of the protective paper away to expose the painting. “Every year she tries to figure out who everybody’s Secret Santa mission is.” She picked up the painting and Octavia moved aside for her. “I’m not going to make it any easier for her.” She laughed like a bad movie villain.

“I hate it when you do Secret Santa like—like all _secret_ and shit.”

Clarke laughed. “What part of _Secret_ Santa is not clear?”

Octavia shrugged. “Did you get Lexa?”

And just hearing her name again caused little sparks in her chest and it made her warm and tingly even though there was no good reason for it to have the effect it did but it always did. Every. Single. Time. She’d been both fighting it and embracing it for years. She hoped she didn’t betray anything through body language or anything.

“Did you not just get my memo about ‘secret’?” Clarke mock-glared at her.

“You take this way too seriously. Anyway, Raven thinks you should do something a little different with Secret Santa this year.”

“Like what? I mean, there are certain rules for how this works. And we have fun with it every year.” She carefully placed the picture on a wall hook.

“Like, you know. Get laid or something.”

She laughed. “How the fuck is Secret Santa supposed to—seriously? We do this with our own crew and the only people getting laid are the ones already partnered. And I’m sorry, I’m not interested that way in our crew.”

With the exception of one.

Octavia scoffed. “Please, Clarke. Raven and I are pretty hot.”

She looked at her for a beat, then laughed again. “Okay, yes, you are. And you’re also both in committed, monogamous relationships. So how, exactly, does that get me laid?”

“So you’re saying you’d do me or Raven?” she said with a teasing glint in her eyes.

“I think of both of you as my sisters. So I can’t really wrap my head around that.”

“There’s always Lexa.”

Clarke was really glad she’d already hung the picture up because she probably would have dropped it. “Excuse me?”

“Just sayin’. I still think the two of you would be awesome together. Raven and I have shipped you with her for years.”

She summoned her best “what the fuck” look though she completely agreed with her. “And Lexa is—”

“Super attractive. Intelligent. Driven. Funny. Confident. Supportive—”

“Are you perhaps writing her Wikipedia entry?”

“No, but maybe I should.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, Lexa is _in New York_. She has a life there.”

Octavia shrugged again. “And? It’s not that far. We’re only forty minutes from DC, and there are these things called trains and planes. Even cars.”

“Oh, my God. Just stop. Go back to asking me about Secret Santa.”

“We’re just trying to help. After the last…um…situation.”

Clarke crossed her arms and looked at her. “It’s not like that’s the norm in my life. I mean, that’s the first and only time I’ve had a dude ask me to do his ex so he could watch.”

“Which, okay, might not be _bad_.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “Not my thing. And it wasn’t his ex’s, either. And come on. His ex? Really?”

“Octavia held her hands up. “You’re right. I’m just messing with you.”

“I know.

“Besides, the ultimate ship is Clexa.”

“Seriously? I can’t with you.” She went back to the storage room and retrieved another painting, trying not to think about Lexa but failing completely. She hung this painting near the other. “What do you think?”

“About that or Clexa?”

“Octavia—”

“Looks good. On both counts.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Focus. On this. Me. The show. What do you think about the rest of the place?” She gestured at the art. “Honest opinion. I’m trying to create a nice space for the show and these are the two that will be teasers until it happens.”

Octavia walked around a bit, inspecting. “Nice. Clean lines, warm lighting. Great outside light from your giant front windows. But you know what would make it even better?”

“Do tell.”

She turned. “Lexa.”

“Final warning. I’m done with that part of the convo.” Because it was too close to her heart, and there was no way she was going to tell Octavia that she totally agreed with her assessment.

“Okay, okay. Then I say, more Christmas decorations.”

“Really? You don’t think this is enough? I don’t want to overwhelm and detract from the art.” She had a small tree in the front window, and had hooked up a couple of cool neon signs in the other window that flashed red and green, alternating “Holly” and “Jolly.” The front door and counter had matching wreaths and she had framed the doors and windows with evergreen garlands.

“No, I’m being totally serious. The opening is, like, a few days before Christmas. People expect more festive-ness. It’ll make them feel all warm and fuzzy and they’ll want to buy more art. Possibly Christmas presents for themselves.”

She had a point. “So you’re saying I don’t have enough Christmas out?”

“I mean, you’ve got some good Christmas going on, but you need a bit more. Some extra touches.”

“Okay…” she hesitated, not sure what else she could do because she needed wall space for paintings.

“Here’s what I suggest. You’re going to have a couple of drink stations and a food table. Let me and Raven set those up and we’ll bring more Christmas. Just a bit more of what you’ve got going on here.

“Really?”

“Damn, Griff. We _are_ your best friends ever. We know Christmas and, more importantly, we know _you_. So let us take care of adding a little more of the holidays to your very artistic, clean, sleek space. A little more festive, a little more—” she pointed at Clarke’s blinking signs in the window, “holly jolly.” She grinned. “Make Christmas your bitch.”

She snorted a laugh. “That should be a drink.”

Octavia grinned. “And I just might create it.”

“I want the first one.”

“The second. I have to taste it to make sure I get it right.” She pulled her into a half-hug. “So is it a deal? You’ll let us give you a little more holiday flair?”

“Yeah. Just—don’t get crazy. I don’t want this place to win a tacky holiday competition. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Time and place and all that.”

“Spare me. We know you. And I also know how to make things accentuate but not overwhelm.”

“True.” And she did. She’d done a fabulous job with her pub, after all.

“So we’ll help you set up Tuesday for the event. Do you have the tables and stands?”

“Yes. They’re in the back. And they’re sort of rustic.”

“Let me see.”

Clarke took her into the back storage area to the table she’d borrowed for the food, a barnwood farmhouse table that she really wanted to replicate.

“Okay, I love this,” Octavia said. “We can do a sort of country Christmas thing without going too country. People love that shit. Like they’re just in from a sleigh ride out in a field or something.”

She laughed. “Or something. Here’re the drink tables.” They were also rustic, but that was because Clarke had purposely created the effect on their surfaces.

“Awesome. This won’t require much, but I’d like to do a couple of other things to help with the country sleigh ride thing.”

“As long as it’s not—”

“I know, I know. As long as it’s not over the top. Have some faith, woman.” Octavia gave her a full-on hug. “Do you trust us?”

“Is that a trick question?”

She laughed and pulled away.

“Just—No Santa’s workshop in here, with cheesy reindeer and fake snow and tinsel all over everything.”

“Definitely not. We are making Christmas our bitch, after all. And it’s gonna be Clarke-tistic.”

“Now _that_ should be a drink.”

“And that could happen. So what time do you want us over on Tuesday?”

“Noon okay?”

“Done. That gives you over four days to worry about it,” she teased.

“Whatever. I’m _already_ worried.”

“Good thing you’re doing fun stuff to break up the monotony of all that worry with Secret Santa. Make people feel like damn merry elves and they’ll want to buy things. Have you planned refreshments?”

“The usual. Some wine and cheese—”

“Stop. I’ll take care of that, too.”

“But people like wine—”

“Yes, and cheese, too. But we can make even that a little more holiday-centric. And easy to nibble.”

She chewed her lip, thinking.

“Clarke. Relax. Seriously. We all know how important this is, which is why I’m telling you we’re going to make it even more amazing than you and your art already are.”

Octavia was right. She was maybe a little too bent about things, but Christmas could be stressful. “All right. Put a refreshment list together and let me see it.”

“Will do.”

“Good talk. But I’m still not telling you who my Secret Santa mission is.”

“Damn. I thought I almost had you, there.”

“Uh-huh. Busted.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop asking for both me and Raven. But stop by for a drink when you’re done here. We can talk more about what kinds of refreshments could work.”

“Fine. You talked me into _that_.”

“Righteous.”

“You’ve seriously been hanging out with Raven too much,” she said with a smile.

Octavia shrugged. “We’ve all known each other for years. Why we aren’t sharing a brain yet is beyond me.”

“That…is a horrifying thought.” She made a face. “Please don’t even suggest that to Raven. She’ll get ideas.”

“Shit, you’re right.” She made a face, too. “Doctor Ravenstein.”

Clarke laughed. “Damn, why don’t we call her that anymore?”

“I don’t know. Let’s start. It’ll be our special gift to her for Christmas.”

“Definitely.” She went back to the counter, and Octavia followed her again.

“Oh, hey, speaking of Lexa, did you see she’s coming in tonight? And I’m not just bringing that up to tease you about the ship I really need to sail.”

“Stop. And duh. She messaged all of us.”

“She’s doing that dinner thing the twentieth and you’d better be into it.”

Yes. God help her, yes, she was into Lexa, something she’d never revealed despite all the teasing over the years because she was sure it would never have worked between the two of them back in their college days. They were like clash of the titans in some ways, and even though they had definitely mellowed since then, Lexa was doing her own thing and Clarke had her own life going on and she loved what she did and she loved having her own gallery and being a working artist. She had great friends, things were good with her mom—she was pretty happy over all.

But damn, Lexa had never left her head. Or her heart. And she hated how everyone else seemed to suspect it.

“Clarke? Hello?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m totally going. Just thinking about my schedule. My show is the day after that dinner, and it makes me a little nervous.”

“At freaking six. We’re not even setting up until noon. Come on. She reserved the back room at the pub. Just the old college crew. With our ugly holiday sweaters. Jasper keeps winning in that category, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got the winner this year.”

“We’ll see. Mine’s pretty freakin’ ugly.”

“Whatever. You’re an artist. Nothing you do or wear is ugly. Even in the ugly sweater department, it’ll be strangely artsy. I mean, you already have the sweater, so you can’t get out of this now.”

“I’m not planning to. I’m just making sure I’m organized.” She’d already told Lexa that, but she didn’t want to give Octavia any more Lexa ammo than she already had.

“Good. Because I already put you down for food and drinks.” She started toward the door. “See you when you’re done here.”

“Wait,” Clarke said. “Is Lexa paying for the dinner?”

“She already did.”

Clarke laughed. “Because of course she did.”

“Right? Damn lawyers.” She grinned and left.

Clarke watched her go out the front door, thinking about their college days.

And about Lexa and her cool green eyes that could spark with either amusement or derision. And her long dark hair the color of rich chocolate that looked good no matter how she wore it. And then Clarke thought about Lexa’s warm smiles and cocky smirks and, okay, she went there—the tattoos that graced her upper arm and decorated her spine, that she’d seen when they all did group trips and stayed in each other’s hotel rooms. And she thought, too, about the times Lexa had stood up for her, and checked in on her, and how she stayed in touch with her.

Fucking Lexa Woods had been a goddamn backbeat to her adult life and she had made Clarke think that anything might be possible, even when they verbally sparred over their class readings, feminist theory, and approaches to life. Even when Lexa frustrated the hell out of her, Clarke always felt safe, always felt that Lexa would never belittle her or deliberately hurt her.

It was a contest of equals and she had loved it, and missed Lexa badly when she went on to law school and Clarke to her MFA program. But at least they had all stayed in touch, and still exchanged goofy texts and photos and even saw each other when they could. All within the context of their shared network of friends, but it was something.

College was almost ten years ago, and now here everybody was, doing their own things, living their own lives. Everything was different, now, though in some ways maybe it wasn’t, at least for a few of them, anyway. At least not for her, in some ways, but she had lots of practice in hiding her feelings where Lexa was concerned.

So yeah. She could totally go to a dinner with Lexa fucking Woods and it would be fine. Some reminiscing, jokes, a couple of laughs.

But this year was a little different, because Clarke had made a decision, and it was going to culminate this Christmas. She went to the counter and from underneath it took the project she’d been working on, a painting she had done based on a photograph she had taken of the historic district of Polis her sophomore year of college, which was the year she had first met Lexa.

She had created the painting then fastened it to thin backing cardboard because she was carefully carving puzzle pieces out of the painting. Once the puzzle was put together, there was a message and invitation she had written on it, and it included her name, because she was done hiding how she felt.

_Lexa—I should’ve said this years ago. It took me a while, but here I am, saying it now. I want to be more than a friend to you. Have dinner with me? –Clarke_

Clarke finished carefully cutting the final piece with the Exacto knife and then carefully trimmed the rough edges. That done, she put all the pieces of her puzzle inside a holiday card and slipped it into its envelope. In the card she had written “Extra Secret Santa” in calligraphy. On the outside of the envelope she had written “Lexa,” also in calligraphy.

Now all she had to do was find an opportunity to get it to her, to plant the seeds for something more. She hoped. She nodded, like she had convinced herself, and put the envelope into her bag then went back to the storage room. Maybe she _could_ make Christmas her bitch this year.

Or it could all blow up in her face.

Was she actually brave enough to go through with this?

Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure.

###

 

“Well?” Raven asked.

“We’ll see.” Octavia repositioned her phone and idly wiped the bar down. It wasn’t busy, but it might get that way this evening. The holidays always brought more business. “She agreed to let us do some more Christmasing. And I’m doing the food. I volunteered you.”

“Good. Did she say anything about Lexa?”

“She didn’t bring her up, but I did.”

“And?”

“She didn’t bite. I mean, how long have we been teasing her about Clexa?”

“Fuck. It’s, like, perfect fucking timing. Woods is single. Griff is single. Why the fuck don’t they just admit they’re supposed to be together and fucking do it?”

Octavia laughed. “You tell me, then we’ll both know. Have you said anything to Lexa recently?”

“You mean besides ‘Clarke is perfect for you. Why the hell are you not hitting that’?”

“Subtle.” Octavia put the cloth back in the disinfectant. “That’s what I love about you.”

“Whatever. I also told Lexa again that Clarke wasn’t seeing anyone seriously, so fucking do something about it.”

“When was that?”

“Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, shit. That’s right. God, she might be more frustrating than Griff.”

“True. Hold on. I have to take this other call. Fuck, let me call you back.”

“Okay.” Octavia hung up and put her phone down on one of the shelves behind the bar and started stacking clean glasses for the next shift.

“Hey, babe,” Lincoln said as he emerged from the back.

“Hi,” she said, still getting a thrill every time he greeted her like that. He slid his arms around her and kissed her and it was warm and safe and sexy, like him. He tasted like cinnamon TicTacs and she loved those jeans on him, and the way his button-down denim shirt fit his shoulders and chest. He could be a model, though she was glad he wasn’t. Because she didn’t want to share.

“How’s it going?” he asked, glancing at the bar, his arms still around her.

“Fine. Raven and I are going to put a little more Christmas into Clarke’s gallery before the show, though. And we’re going to provide the food. I mean, wine and cheese is okay for regular shows, but this is Clarke fucking Griffin.”

He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. “Polis crew for the win. Do you need me to help?”

“I mean, I always need you, but yes, I do need you to help, too. Can you check the schedule on deliveries? We’re taking equipment over at noon that day so I’ll need you then.

“Will do. I’ll rearrange and block out a couple hours. Do you need help bringing the food in?”

Octavia pondered for a few moments. “That’s probably a good idea. It’ll go faster with my super hunky guy there to help.”

He laughed. “Whatever you say, though my super hot warrior woman can take care of anything.”

“Keep talking like that and I might put out tonight.”

“Score,” he said with a certain look in his eyes and he kissed her again, this one with a little bit of tongue and if she didn’t have so much to do right now she would’ve taken him to the back office.

“Okay, enough of that for now because it’s distracting.”

“Agree. Not sorry, though.” He released her. “Speaking of Clarke—how’s Operation Clexa coming along?”

“About the same. Lexa won’t say anything and neither will Griff. They’re the most stubborn women on the damn planet.”

He gave her a look and she grinned.

“Yeah, yeah. Besides me.” She squeezed his hand.

“Precisely.”

“Our timing was off this year, too, because otherwise we could have arranged it so that they were each other’s Secret Santas. But Monty went ahead and put the drawing together before we got back from California. It would’ve looked weird to try to rearrange everything.”

“Yeah, kind of suspicious.”

“Right?” She toyed with one of the buttons of his shirt, thinking about undoing it.

“Are you doing the whole high school thing? Where you tell Clarke that Lexa likes her and vice versa?” he said, a smile in his eyes.

“Kind of. I mean, we’ve been teasing them both since junior year, so it’s not like this is new.”

“True. I’m a guy and I can see it.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let me run some errands. Including going to Home Depot for some wood.”

“I think you’re just fine in that department,” she teased and he laughed.

“For the shelves in the back, thank you. As for the other kind, you can check that out later. Call if you think of anything else you want me to pick up.”

“’Kay. Love you.”

“Love you back.” He gave her another quick kiss and left and of course she checked out his ass because damn. He was definitely going to get lucky later. But then, so was she.

Her phone rang with Raven’s tone and she answered. “So how are we going to get this shit arranged?”

“I don’t fucking know. Can we get them into the same space as much as possible while Lexa’s here?”

“Oh, shit. I just had a thought. Lexa’s coming in today and I told Clarke to come by the pub when she’s done at the gallery.”

“That could be good. Can you encourage Lexa to stop by the same time?” She put extra emphasis on “encourage.”

“I’ll text her.”

“Cool. Let me know what happens. Dammit, let’s put some Christmas magic into Clexa.”

“Definitely. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Cool. Later.”

“Yeah.” Octavia hung up and immediately texted Lexa. This was a perfect time to help whatever holiday magic was out there to get some mojo working, and launch an epic ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just add Lexa and stir...
> 
> Also, Clarke's kind of a romantic. Awww.
> 
> And can we get an awww for Linctavia? :D


	2. Clarke-tastic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke gets a mysterious card. Then she goes to Octavia's pub to hang out and Lexa shows up. Convo and sparks ensue.

_Are you coming to the pub or what?_

Clarke rolled her eyes. God, Octavia could be demanding. _getting ready to lock up. chill tf out_

 _lol says uptight Clarke_. _You have to come. I invented a Clarke-tistic cocktail. or maybe Clarke-tastic. whichever_

That made her laugh. _Already? you were just here._

_Like, 2 hours ago_

_Fine. what’s in it?_

_Alcohol. Now get over here and have one._

_jfc, woman i’ll be there in @ 20_

_[kiss emoji,_ and about _8 martini emojis]_

The front door of the gallery opened and Clarke looked up as a postal worker entered, dressed in winter gear. “Oh, hey, Patty.”

“Hi, Clarke. Mail call.” She walked over and set a few envelopes on the counter and it was kind of nice, that some people still sent mail. She liked the tactile aspect of that, even if it was a bill or invoice or junk mail.

“Thanks. You about done?”

“Yes, thankfully. Been a long day.”

“Long week, I’m guessing,” Clarke said with sympathy. “How’s the family?”

“Great, thanks. I might bring them to your show.”

“That would be amazing.” Clarke grinned.

“Aniyah is really into art, now.”

“Oh, bring her.” She loved talking art with kids.

“I just might. See you tomorrow.”

Clarke waved then went through the mail. A couple of local checks for work she had done (that was awesome), something from her accountant, and two holiday cards. Two of many that came this time of year. Her assistant, currently on break, had already ensured that Clarke’s were mailed out, so that was one less thing she had to deal with.

One of the cards was from an artist friend of hers in Chicago who she sometimes worked with on projects. She opened it because she wanted to see which of his pieces he put on the card’s cover. Cool. A neon project. Kitschy but fun. He’d included a personal note and said he’d be in DC in January and could they grab dinner?

Yes, and that’s all it would be, though he kept hoping for more. She liked him, but not enough to take him to bed. Besides, her mind was on someone else entirely.

She set that card aside and picked up the unopened one, in a red envelope. Her name and gallery address were…typed? Seriously? She studied it. Yes, that was definitely typing, on an older model typewriter because the “e” was slightly raised and the ink was uneven. Who the hell still did that?

And the return address—Santa’s Workshop, North Pole.

What the actual fuck.

She checked the postmark, and the incongruity of a Dallas postmark and a North Pole return address struck her as both weird and funny and it made her smile. Also, she couldn’t think of anybody she knew in Dallas.

For some reason she decided not to just tear it open and instead used a letter opener—an actual letter opener that had been her grandfather’s that she kept as decoration—and sliced the envelope open and peered inside. Just a card. No tinsel or glitter. She was almost disappointed about that as she took the card out.

The front was a nice photo of a snowy forest. A lone tree tastefully decorated with lights and ornaments stood among the snow-laden others and she actually liked how it looked, because it was just kind of doing its own thing but still fit into the scene, somehow.

She opened it and found a small folded piece of stationery. The card’s interior message was a standard pre-printed “Happy Holidays” with no signature so she set it down and unfolded the paper. Two lines of text greeted her, also typewritten.

 

French Pressed. Dec. 17, 10:30 AM. Go to the counter.

\--Secret Santa

 

“What the fuck?” She turned the paper over, but it was blank. And then she smelled it, which might have been weird, but you never knew. It revealed nothing except the dry, pleasant odor of good quality stationery. She checked the back of the card, too, but all it told her was the card company’s name and the usual card stuff.

She’d been doing Secret Santa for years, but this…this was different. And kind of…fuck.

Fun. It was fun. Even though it was probably Raven or Octavia (or both of them, the annoying but cute assholes), it was different enough from their usual over-the-top productions and she appreciated it. One or the other of them clearly had drawn her name for Secret Santa and they were colluding on this.

The Dallas postmark was a nice touch, too. Anya had to travel there a lot, so Raven probably put her up to mailing it on a recent business trip. Nice timing, too, since the 17th was tomorrow.

She put the card and paper back in the envelope and studied the address again, as if she could extract information from the letters of her name and address. Should she worry? Was this some kind of shitty stalker situation and not Raven and Octavia? Somehow, it didn’t feel like it, but she would definitely keep that in mind. She unplugged the lights on her little Christmas tree in the window, turned off her holly jolly sign, then put the card in her bag and made sure the back door was locked. All that taken care of, she turned on the security system and left through the front.

“Hey, Clarke,” Rosie from the gallery next door said. She looked a little like Margaret Cho, but with shorter hair and artsy glasses. And today, at least, a huge parka. “How was your day?”

“Good. A few sales. You?”

“Same. Looking forward to your showing.”

“Please come, if you can. And bring some postcards or brochures for your stuff, too. Or just bring them over tomorrow so I can put them out.”

“Thank you.” She beamed.

“Be careful going home. Looks like more snow on the way.”

“You, too. See you tomorrow.” She went back inside and Clarke studied her own storefront, which was decorated with lights, pine garlands, and festive red bows. It looked nice, even with the tree and sign turned off.

Her mini-SUV was parked around the corner in a public parking lot and as she walked toward it, she automatically glanced across the street at French Pressed, which stayed open until about eight. The windows were steamed up on the inside but she could still see people inside, probably buying whatever pastries were left and drinking hot chocolate or Niylah’s really good cappuccinos.

Should she go tomorrow, like the card requested? Or just blow it off, since it was probably one of Raven’s practical jokes?

She got into her car and started it, still thinking about the card. Okay, so it might’ve given her a little thrill because it was different than the usual Secret Santa stuff her crew did, even if it was most likely an elaborate prank.

God, she should just lighten up. What was the big deal about going to a coffee house across the street? If nothing else, she’d buy a coffee and have a good laugh. And now she was interested to find out if it was Raven or Octavia who came up with this.

The pub was a few blocks away, but Clarke didn’t want to walk in the cold later, so she drove over and took a space a few slots from the front door. Snow clouds hung overhead, and the air felt thick and expectant. The downtown area of Polis was a quaint historic district, so the street lights looked Victorian, and the city had decorated them with evergreen garlands and wreaths and deep red tinsel wound around the posts, so yeah, even that looked nice.

So, too, did the front of the pub, with the blinking red and white lights that outlined the front windows and hung above the door. Octavia had done a nice job with the interior, too. Always warm and inviting, a mixture of sleek and rustic, she had hung garlands accentuated with big red holiday bows around the room, and a small tree with lights and ornaments stood in one of the front windows, which had a display area for such things, since the building had originally been a hardware store.

She went to the bar and hung her bag on one of the hooks underneath and as she was taking her coat off, Octavia appeared from the back.

“There you are,” she said with a smile. “Hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Clarke burger, coming up.” She rang it up before Clarke could respond, but that was fine because it was pretty much what she wanted.

“How about one of those Clarke-tistic cocktails you’ve been working on?”

“Oh, yes.” She set to work, and Clarke relaxed as she watched her. “So,” Octavia said as she mixed, “I think I like Clarke-tastic better. And I wanted something smooth but sexy with a hint of warmth, because that’s you.”

She laughed. “Seriously?”

“Yes. Hence, a bourbon base.”

“I’m already a fan.”

Octavia smiled. “You’ll like it. American bourbon, with a vanilla finish. Then, a bit of chocolate.” She poured a splash of what Clarke surmised was liqueur into the shaker. “Coffee flavor, which I know you find comforting.” Another liqueur, and Clarke didn’t miss the coffee reference. Was Octavia responsible for the card? Clarke wasn’t going to bring it up because she didn’t want her to think that she enjoyed it. That was too easy.

“And now…” Octavia picked up the shaker and set a cool rhythm with it, moving it in a few flashy patterns.

“There’s something sexy about that, O,” Clarke said.

She grinned wickedly and poured the drink into a glass that she then garnished with a sprig of mint and a sugar cane strip for a stir. She stood, waiting for Clarke to try it.

The first sip was thick and smooth, and warmed her throat. “Oh, wow. It’s like a coffee chocolate float.”

“Exactly what I was going for. Congratulations, Griff. You are the latest inspiration for an exclusive cocktail at Grounders Pub n’ Grub. Clarke-tistic or Clarke-tastic?”

“Um. The second.”

“Cool. Done.”

“I’m feeling rather honored. Is there a T-shirt?”

“Not a bad idea.” She turned as one of the waitstaff put in an order.

“Go do business,” Clarke said, and she took another sip. Seriously delicious. She checked her phone and a bit later Octavia set a plate in front of her then reached under the bar for bottles of condiments that she set next to it. A burger with avocado, tomato, and provolone along with a pile of sweet potato fries.

“Thanks, O,” Clarke called after her as she went back to the kitchen. She cut the burger in half, which made it easier to eat, then doctored it with mustard and lettuce.

“How is it?” Octavia asked when she emerged from the back.

“Fucking delicious. On the one hand, I want to make sure everybody knows about you but on the other, I don’t, because I like having you all to myself.”

Octavia laughed. I’m good with how things are right now. It’s manageable and I and my staff still make decent money. Everybody wins.”

“Damn truth.” She took another bite. “So good.”

“And the drink?”

“It’s delicious.”

“Good. Making you another one.”

“No, I’m good. Driving.”

“Clarke, you literally live three blocks away.” Octavia gave her a look.

“But my car’s out front.”

“Lincoln and I will take care of it—and holy shit.”

Clarke followed her gaze, which went to the front door. A woman had come in, and she stamped her feet off on the big industrial rug at the door then glanced up and—

Lexa.

Lexa fucking Woods.

And she locked onto her gaze like a Clarke-seeking missile and grinned. “Hey,” she said as she approached. “I was hoping I’d run into you soon.”

“Why didn’t you text or call?” Clarke asked, and that damn heat she always felt around Lexa suffused her chest.

“Figured you were busy. Besides, I know where both of you live and work. Clearly.” She made an expansive gesture.

“Fuckin’ Woods, how are you?” Octavia came out from behind the bar before Clarke could respond and pulled Lexa into a bear hug. “Look, Clarke. It’s Lexa.” She gave her a pointed look.

“Clearly,” Clarke said. “But thank you for the reminder.”

Lexa laughed. “I’m good, O. You?” She pulled her gloves off and ruffled Octavia’s hair and Clarke tried not to stare, tried not to get caught up in Lexa’s smile and her sparkling eyes but fuck, it was hard. And fuck, how was it that she was even more beautiful now than the last time she had seen her?

“Awesome,” Octavia said. “I thought you weren’t getting in ’til later. Right, Clarke?”

What the fuck? Clarke threw her a glare.

“Got lucky and finished work stuff early then just booked it down here. Because an Octavia burger…well, who can resist that?”

“Damn right. Sit down. I’ll bring you a menu.” She gestured at the empty bar chair to Clarke’s left.

“That okay with you, Griffin?” Lexa asked, voice warm and teasing.

“I guess so. I mean, as you can see, there are thousands clamoring to sit next to me.” She grinned back and motioned at the bar.

“Whatever. And for fuck’s sake, bring it in, Griff.” She opened her arms. “It’s been…what? June since I saw you in person last?”

Clarke slid off the chair and sank into Lexa’s hug, trying not to like it too much, but failing though she’d never admit it publicly. Not yet, anyway. Lexa wore a puffy down coat, but it didn’t do much to protect Clarke from feeling what was underneath it when Lexa pulled her close.

“ _So_ good to see you,” Lexa said softly near her ear before she pulled away and fuck, Clarke hated it when she did that, because it only made her want much more and she wasn’t sure Lexa wanted the same.

“You want something to drink?” Octavia asked as she put a menu on the bar next to Clarke. “Or are you trying to be responsible here, like Griff?”

Lexa looked at Clarke and arched an eyebrow as she took her coat off and arranged it on the back of the chair. She was wearing a form-fitting black sweater and faded jeans and hikers. “Responsible? What exactly does that entail?”

“In case you didn’t remember, Griffin lives three blocks away but doesn’t want to overdo it because her car’s here.”

“I’m one block away,” Lexa said to Clarke. “I’ll make sure you have a place to crash. And Octavia and Lincoln can take your car to your place. Have another drink.”

“Enablers. You’re both enablers.” Clarke rolled her eyes and sat back down, but the thought of sleeping in the same place as Lexa made her giddy.

“Speaking of, Clarke inspired a new drink today.”

“Oh?”

“You still have a thing for bourbon?” Octavia asked.

“Sure. What’s the name of this new drink?”

“Clarke-tastic.”

Lexa laughed. “I love it already. Hook me up with that.” Lexa sat down next to Clarke and looked at her plate. “Oh, hell. I also want an Octavia burger. Throw bacon and Swiss on there. Medium well.”

“Done. Want a beer, too? Because the Clarke-tastic isn’t that big a drink.”

“Yeah. Something dark, smoky, but kind of dessert-ish.”

“Got just the thing.” She smirked and went to ring up Lexa’s order.

“God, it’s good to see you,” Lexa said to Clarke. “And you look _so_ good.”

“You’re one to talk,” she said as she moved her plate between them, liking how easy it was to pick up with her, and interact like they saw each other way more than they did. “Fries?”

“Thanks. Love these.”

“I know.” She flashed her a grin and got lost in her eyes for a few seconds, the deep green an invitation.

Lexa stared back, like she was assessing something. A slow smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “So are you coming to dinner with the crew? I scheduled it the night before your show, because we all want to go see it.”

Clarke laughed. “So _that’s_ the deal. Yes. I’ll go. I thought I already told you I was going.”

“You did. Just making sure.”

“Can we help you pay for it?”

“No. It’s a Christmas present to all of us.”

“Aww. That’s sweet, Woods.”

“Yeah. Don’t tell anyone. It’d ruin my rep as a hard-ass lawyer.”

Clarke laughed again. “It’s all an act. Underneath that hard-ass exterior beats the heart of a creampuff.”

“Shh. Very few know that about me.” She smirked and turned toward Octavia, who set a pint glass in front of her of a very dark beer.

“Working on the Clarke-tastic. In the meantime, this is Polis Brewery’s seasonal stout,” Octavia said.

Lexa took a sip. “Oh, fuck, yes. What’s it called?”

“Stocking Stuffer.”

She laughed. “Perfect. Thanks.”

Octavia smiled and went to fill another order.

“Have you had this?” Lexa asked.

“No, actually.”

“Try it.” Lexa pushed her glass toward her and Clarke took a sip.

“Shit, that’s epic.” Hints of nutmeg and smoky caramel filled her mouth.

“You need one.” She arched an eyebrow again, and that always made Clarke weak.

“I—”

“Please? I just kind of want you to stick around a while longer.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re plying me with alcohol.”

“Exactly. To get all your secrets.”

“Pretty sure you have them all. We’ve known each other long enough, after all.” Except Lexa didn’t have them all. And it was taking a lot of willpower right now not to lean in and just fucking kiss her, like she’d been wanting to do for years but for some reason, it was so much stronger now than it had been in a while.

“Maybe.” Lexa gave her an enigmatic look and caught Octavia’s eye. She pointed at her beer then at Clarke and Octavia laughed and gave her a thumbs-up. Lexa ate a fry off Clarke’s plate and it was like old times, like when they’d stay up for hours arguing over something at a diner, eating fries off each other’s plates.

“So did you get that case settled we were talking about a couple weeks ago?” She took a bite of her burger.

“Just about. I think my client will make out very well.”

“Like there was any doubt.”

She shrugged and sipped her beer. “You never know. All kinds of variables involved. Like, what kind of judge. How the client presents in court. The things you find in discovery. Sometimes it’s luck of the draw.”

Something in her voice made Clarke look at her. “What’s going on?”

Lexa held her gaze for a moment, and the air between them seemed to still. “You always could read me better than most.”

“It’s an acquired skill.” And one she had enjoyed acquiring over the years. “So is there something going on?”

“Maybe.” She sipped again and Clarke took another bite of her burger, waiting. “Do you ever think that you should do something that you’ve wanted to do for a long time but for whatever reasons, you didn’t?”

Clarke barely managed to swallow because yes. A thousand times yes. A million times. “Yeah, actually.”

“So what did you do?”

“I decided to do it.” She said it with conviction, though inside she was a tornado of emotions.

A flash of deeper interest showed in her eyes. “What happened?”

Oh, shit. “I—not sure yet. It’s a recent thing. Well, I mean, recent in that I decided recently to do this…um, thing. But it’s been on my mind for much longer than that.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing yet. Too soon, I guess,” she hedged, since nothing _would_ happen until she got the card to Lexa. And fuck, that required bravery. Fuck.

“And do you plan on telling anybody about what exactly this thing is that you decided to finally do?”

Clarke smiled. “You mean tell _you_?”

She smiled back and shrugged and Clarke fought another nearly overwhelming urge to kiss her and she wondered how she might have the gumption to do that but not just fucking tell Lexa how she felt.

“When I know more,” Clarke said, “so will you. How’s that?”

“Fair enough.” She took a drink of her beer then handed the glass to Clarke, who also took a swallow.

“So is that kind of what you’ve got going on, too?” Clarke asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. And I’m pretty sure I want a change. That is, there’s this thing I’ve wanted to do, but it sort of ties into other things, which plays into me thinking I need to make some changes. And that probably sounded completely confusing.” She sighed.

“No. I can relate.” God, how she could relate. But now she was curious about what kind of change Lexa was thinking about.

Octavia set Lexa’s burger in front of her and Clarke moved the condiments, too.

“Back in a minute with your beer, Griff. And Lexa’s Clarke-tastic.”

“Thanks.” She watched as Lexa put mustard on her burger, along with the tomato and lettuce, like she had done all the years she had known her. Some things definitely didn’t change. Octavia set a beer in front of her and a glass in front of Lexa then went into the back.

“Let me interrupt this rather deep conversation to try this new beverage,” Lexa said, and she picked up the glass and sipped. “Oh, wow. That’s…yeah. My new fave.”

Clarke laughed. “It’s basically a bunch of alcohol.”

“And it all tastes pretty good. Plus, I like the name.” She shrugged and took another sip. “Definitely a good unwinding kind of drink.”

“So,” Clarke said. “Before my new namesake distracts you too much, what kind of change?”

Lexa shrugged as she took a bite. “I don’t know—and shit, that’s good.”

“Right? Who knew O had it in her?”

She laughed and took another bite. “Anyway, I don’t know. Like I said, there’s this…thing I’ve wanted to do but I’ve been scared to do it.”

“Why? Is it skydiving or something? I’ll go with you, if it helps.”

“As much as I think that would be really fun—and let’s definitely put that on our bucket lists—that’s not it.” She lapsed into silence for a few moments.

“Why does it scare you?” And she knew she was asking the question of herself, too.

She stared into her glass before taking another drink. “It feels like there’s a lot emotionally riding on it. I mean, if it works out, it’ll be absolutely amazing. But if it doesn’t…”

And now Clarke _really_ wanted to know what this was all about but she also knew Lexa’s moods, and she knew she wasn’t quite ready to talk about it in greater detail. “I can relate to that, too. So is there something going on with your job, too?”

She seemed to relax. “I’m tired of living in New York and I’m tired of what feels like a corporate rat race, even though I’m with the ACLU. Rewarding as it can be.”

“Wow. How come you didn’t bring this up the last time we talked?”

“Because I wasn’t sure.” She took a swig of beer. “If I’m being honest, talking to you the last time helped my thoughts crystallize.”

“Um…how?”

“Because you’re…you. You’re Clarke, and you’re grounded and happy and you like what you’re doing and where you are.” She side-eyed her. “I mean, I _think_ that’s the case. I’m pretty good at reading you, and that’s the impression I get.”

Clarke chuckled. “Not bad. I am pretty happy overall, and my mom’s made peace with me being an artist and not a surgeon and I like this area. It’s kind of become home for me.”

Lexa didn’t respond, and instead ate and Clarke struggled not to watch her profile. And her fabulous cheekbones. And jawline. And failed at that, too.

“So I’m considering leaving New York.” Lexa finally said.

“Okay,” she said, cautious and hoping that it wouldn’t be too far away. “Are you good with that?”

“Yes. Very.” She took a long swallow of the Clarke-tastic.

“Do you know where you want to go?”

“I have an idea, but I have these other things that are in the air before I make a concrete decision.”

“It would be fucking epic if you came to DC.”

Lexa didn’t respond for a while and Clarke wondered if she had hit a nerve.

“I mean, if you want to. Polis crew would love to have you closer.”

“And you?” Lexa asked, teasing.

“Totally. Think of all the mayhem we could get up to. Like old times.”

She chuckled.

“Um…will this affect anybody else in your life? I mean, if you’ve gotten serious about someone in the last few weeks or so,” she hastily added.

Lexa laughed. “No. Nobody serious. You’d know about it if that was the case, anyway.” She took another sip of beer. “You?”

“Nope.”

“So nobody since the artist guy you were dating that you mentioned last month?”

“The operative term there is ‘dating.’ Things got weird when he asked me to get it on with his ex while he watched.”

Lexa’s eyes widened. “Yikes.”

“Yep.” She picked up her beer.

“And his ex—”

“She was not a fan of the idea, either,” Clarke said, tone dry. “Neither was I. I mean, I wouldn’t consider myself a prude, but…boundaries, please.”

“Sounds like he was also being a total douche and stereotyping bisexuality.”

“It totally felt that way.” Clarke made a face.

“Gross. And super disrespectful on top of all the layers of gross.”

“For sure.” She looked at her. “And I thought I told you about that part of the saga.”

“No.”

She shrugged. “Sorry. It’s funny now, but at the time…”

“Ouch. Got it.”

Clarke smiled. “It’s all good. I was just dating him, after all. Since that, just busy with other things.” And busy thinking about finally asking Lexa out. She hid that thought behind finishing the last of her other drink, but damn. Lexa was single. Or at least, not serious with anyone. Which made her a little more hopeful that Lexa might be into trying something a little more with her. Even though Octavia and Raven had been pushing her to do it, she still wasn’t sure that Lexa felt the same about her.

She looked over at her again and her voice froze in her throat. Asking Lexa out could be either the best or worst thing ever, because if she said no…Clarke didn’t even want to contemplate that. She was taking a chance with the whole secret Santa thing, after all. Just flat-out telling Lexa how she felt? That was a whole different level of unveiling that she wasn’t sure she was ready for. Better to have the buffer of a card.

Octavia showed up, fortunately, to bring Lexa another beer and to clear their plates away, saving Clarke from digging much deeper into her thoughts.

“You said you got in earlier this afternoon. Did you fly?” Clarke asked.

“Nah. Took the train into DC then rented a car. Good timing, too, because it’s snowing.”

“And traffic is a bitch out of DC.”

“A total bitch.” She stopped and looked at Clarke. “But you know what? Cheers.” She picked up her fresh glass of beer and Clarke picked hers up—still half-full.

“For what?”

“For…everything. I’m just—I’m just really glad to know you, and I hope that continues, even as both of us…well, do what we’re trying to do.”

“Same.” Clarke touched her glass to Lexa’s, and even that made sparks zip around her chest. “So where are you staying?”

“Seriously, a block away. Air bnb on Jackson.”

“Oh, cool. Kristen’s?”

Lexa smiled. “Yes. And seriously, she and Niylah did such a nice job renovating it.” She smiled and fuck, what her smile did to certain parts of Clarke’s physiology.

“Awesome. Although you know, I have a guest bedroom. You’re welcome to crash there any time.”

“Thanks. But you might get sick of me after a few days.”

“Like that’s even possible. How long are you in town?”

“’Til the twenty-third or so. I’m flexible this year.”

“Oh? Is this part of your whole re-evaluation thing?”

Lexa smiled again and sipped her beer. “Maybe. And this might sound weird, but this place feels like home to me, too.” She held Clarke’s gaze. “I feel like I’m me, here.”

“No, it doesn’t sound weird. That’s part of why I came back. And maybe why Octavia and Lincoln haven’t left. Raven managed to go forty miles away, but she feels the pull, too, and visits a lot.”

“And can I just say that I love that she and Anya are still together.”

“Well…they are kind of a perfect match. Besides, it’s your fault.”

Lexa laughed. “Yeah, and I’ll own it. Just trying to do my cousin a favor, get her out of her head to meet people. Who knew Raven’s snark was a perfect match for hers?” She paused. “Funny, how college brought us all together. A few of us in more ways than one.” She smirked and Clarke took a swallow of her own beer because her mouth had gone dry.

“I’m just really glad that we all still talk and hang out,” she managed.

“Polis crew,” Lexa said and held her fist up for a bump, which Clarke did and the contact, though quick and informal, still made her ache.

“We all good, here?” Octavia asked.

“Yes,” both Clarke and Lexa said.

“Another beer?” she asked Clarke.

“No. I’ll save myself for another evening.”

“Same,” Lexa said. “And I guess we should cash out.”

“No worries. On me.”

“O—” Clarke started.

“Let me do this,” Octavia said, and Clarke recognized her “this is the end of the discussion” tone.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks. For this and everything.”

“You sure?” Lexa said to Octavia, who rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re both welcome. Clarke, you good going home?”

“I’ll walk. Can I just leave my car out front?”

“Girl, please. Lincoln and I will bring it. Also, here’s a list for your show.” She handed her a piece of paper.

“Okay and thanks on both accounts.”

Octavia flashed her a grin and went to take an order from someone else at the other end of the bar. Both Clarke and Lexa each left a $20 bill on the bar.

“So…it’s really good to see you,” Lexa said a few seconds later and Clarke jerked her attention back to her.

“Aww. It’s good to see you, too,” Clarke teased. She shoulder-bumped her, since they were sitting close enough to do that. And any chance she got to touch her was well worth the effort.

Lexa smiled. “I’m being serious. I always feel like myself around you, and I know you’re not going to bullshit me but you’re also not going to be a dick about it.”

“Debatable.”

She laughed.

“I have my moods, as you know.”

“Don’t we all.”

“And there were times back in the day.”

Lexa smiled. “So many.” And then she lapsed into silence.

Clarke regarded her for a moment, and got caught in her eyes. “Seriously, Lexa. Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You sure? Do I need to worry about you on your re-evaluation tour?”

“Yes, I’m sure, and no, you don’t.” She finished her beer.

“Well, if you want to talk it through…” she put the invitation out, because she knew Lexa would, if she felt it was warranted.

“I know. I’ve got a few things in the air right now, but I’ll probably know more in a bit.” She squeezed Clarke’s forearm and the touch was both warm and familiar but super-arousing. “And now I’m going to head out. Kinda tired.”

“Okay if I walk that block with you?”

Lexa looked at her like she had sprouted a couple extra arms. “It’s _always_ okay. You will always have special Clarke dispensation.”

“You say that now, but…” She stood and put her coat on.

“No buts, here, Griff.” She put her own coat on, produced a knit hat from one of the pockets, and put it on.

“Hey, see you tomorrow,” Octavia said.

“Definitely. Thanks again, O.” Clarke put her scarf on and zipped her coat up then grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Lexa added. They both waved and walked together to the door, Clarke wondering why it always felt so good to be around her, and marveling at how even friendly banter made her want so much more. She bit her lip and they stepped out into the night.

“God, I love this,” Lexa said softly, face to the sky as big, soft flakes drifted to the ground. “And I love how quiet it gets. Remember that one epic snowball fight we had? Senior year.”

“The one that went on for, like, five hours?” Clarke smiled thinking about it, but she was also smiling because she just really loved looking at her. The snow battle had involved easily twenty people and strategies and tackling and pile-ons. Everybody was soaked and it had taken Clarke a long shower to warm up when it was done.

“Yeah. Fuck, I was freezing once we stopped. I had to take a twenty-minute shower.”

“Same. But it was so worth it.”

“Completely.” Lexa looked at her. “Ready?”

Oh, the meanings that word held in this moment. “Yep.” They started walking, leaving footprints in the quarter-inch of new snow on the sidewalks, and Clarke glanced back, liking this evidence—however ephemeral—of their time together.

They arrived at Lexa’s Air bnb much too soon for her liking, but it was probably for the best because the alcohol might cause her to do or say something she or Lexa would regret.

“So what are your plans for the next couple of days?” Clarke asked, wishing for more one-on-one time with her.

“I do have a few work things I need to do, but I’ll also be hanging out _not_ working. I’ll probably stop by the gallery tomorrow. If that’s okay.”

“It’s _always_ okay.”

“Cool. Maybe we can grab lunch…?” She sounded hopeful and it tugged at Clarke’s heart because there pretty much wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for her.

“That would be great.”

“All right.” Lexa’s smile lit up her eyes and she gave Clarke a hug—something she’d done many times in the past but it felt different, out here in the quiet, snow-filled December night. She wasn’t sure why, but it felt like…possibility?

“Good night,” Clarke said. “Get some sleep.”

“You, too. See you soon.”

Clarke watched her walk up the driveway to the steps to the second level of the carriage house and she waved before she went inside and as Clarke walked home, she mulled how the hell she was going to get her Secret Santa card to her.

 

###

_they left together_

Raven stared at the text and fist-pumped. _Where did they go?_

Octavia was in the process of texting back and Raven practically exploded from the impatience. She wanted to call, but Octavia was probably busy.

_L’s staying at air bnb a block away. Niylah’s GF’s place_

_omg is this it? Is Clexa happening?_

_don’t know. will try 2 find out more 2morrow_

_k ttyl_ , she texted back. Maybe there was some Christmas magic doing the rounds. She spun around in her desk chair then got up and stretched her bad leg out and massaged her thigh.

Anya came into their home office and set a big mug of tea on Raven’s worktable. “Do you want the TENS unit?” she asked, concern in her tone as she looked first at Raven’s leg then at her.

“No. Just a little stiff.” And then she sighed in pleasure as Anya rubbed her shoulders. “Did you get that stuff done?”

“Mmm hmm.” She leaned down and gently kissed Raven’s cheek, which caused a wave of feels to rush over her. “How much more do you have to do?”

“Just finishing.”

“Feel like joining me for some Netflix?”

She smiled. “You know I do.” Another text came in and she checked her phone. Octavia again

_C just texted to tell me she got home ok_

Dammit. No Clexa yet. She texted back, _what’s Lexa’s schedule tomorrow_

“Who is it?” Anya asked.

“Octavia.”

“Hi to her and Lincoln.”

“Yep.”

 _L’s going to gallery 2morrow_ , Octavia texted. _possible lunch_

“Excellent,” Raven muttered.

“What?”

“Operation Clexa.” She texted Octavia back. _k keep me in loop. Anya says hi 2 u & Lincoln_

Anya’s hands stilled on her shoulders. “What are you actually doing?”

“Helping.”

At that, Anya really did laugh. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to tell you to stop messing with other people’s business?”

Raven turned her chair around to face her. “Is that really what you want to do?”

Anya braced her hands on the armrests and looked down at her. “Nope.” And then she grinned. “You know I’m all for Lexa hooking up with Clarke.”

“So why won’t she? God, she’s so frustrating.”

“No, she’s just private. And stubborn. But we all know the thought has crossed her mind. Lots and lots of times.”

“Recently?”

“Probably.”

Raven ran her hands up Anya’s arms, and even through the sweatshirt she could discern the lines of her muscles and it turned her on. “So can you remind her again?”

She smiled, and it was full of patient affection. “Sure. I’ll just call her tomorrow and tell her to please hit it with Clarke before my incredibly smart, sexy, but intensely nosy girlfriend blows a gasket.”

Raven made a face. “Not helping.”

“How about this, then?” Anya leaned down and kissed her and it turned Raven into a big, squishy pile of feels.

“That _is_ helping,” Raven said after a few more moments, “but with a totally different matter.”

“And what might that be?” Anya’s breath was hot against her lips and Raven lightly nipped her lower lip, and Anya made an appreciative noise.

“I’ll show you.”

“Huh. I like this idea.” She stepped back and pulled Raven to her feet. “So do you think you can back-burner Clexa for a bit and do this showing of which you speak?”

“Definitely.”

“Good. Meet you on the couch.” She kissed her again before she went to the door, where she paused. “Look, I’m not in disagreement about Clarke and Lexa. They’d be great together. But you can’t force the issue. If it’s supposed to happen, it will.” She smiled and that, too, made Raven’s heartbeat speed up. And then she left the office and Raven made sure she’d saved all the work she’d done before she, too, left.

Anya was right. You couldn’t force an issue like this. But you could maybe provide opportunities and reminders to help things along. And maybe open some avenues for holiday mojo.

Right now, though, the first thing on her mind was Anya. Priorities, after all. She picked up her mug of tea and headed to the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *busy making Clarke-tastic brb*


	3. Holiday Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke goes to the coffee house and Lexa comes by the gallery for lunch. More sparks.

Clarke had been watching the front entrance of French Pressed off and on since she’d gotten to the gallery that morning. It was easy to do, since it was across the street and slightly to the right of her, nestled between a funky little hardware store on one side and a small-town drugstore on the other. Clarke loved the feel of Old Polis. Kind of retro and this time of year, it reminded her of some of the buildings in the movie _A Christmas Story_.

Maybe she should’ve ordered a leg lamp and put it in her front window. That was totally more her speed for Christmas. Quirky and a little unconventional. She smiled and watched pedestrians across the street. It had stopped snowing the night before at some point and the sun was trying to break through the clouds.

Sooner or later, Octavia would have to go into French Pressed and do whatever it was she and Raven had planned. But she hadn’t seen her yet. Or Lincoln, for that matter, and it was 10.20.

At 10.25, she put her coat on and hung a “be right back” sign on the front door, locked up, and went across the street. She’d debated not doing this, because it seemed kind of weird for Raven and Octavia, but on the other hand, she liked that they’d created a sense of mystery, so she’d play along on this one.

She stepped into the shop and inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell of fresh bread, pastries, and, yes, coffee. Two people were in front of her at the counter, where one of Niylah’s part-timers, a student from nearby Polis University, was taking orders.

“Hey, Clarke,” Niylah said with a smile from behind the big espresso machine. She had her long blond hair tied back and she was wearing a black French Pressed T-shirt under a standard white apron.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Whipping up coffee goodness and holiday cheer.”

Clarke laughed and checked the pastry case and zeroed in on chocolate croissants. God, those were good.

The guy in front of her finished paying and stepped aside to wait for his order.

“Hi,” the student said and Clarke smiled at him.

“I’ve got this, Eric,” Niylah said. “Can you check the bread?”

“Sure.” He left the register and Niylah came over, carrying a full to-go cup.

“Fresh bread,” Clarke said. “I figured that was the case. It smells freaking good in here.”

“Sometimes I just bake it because of that.” She flashed her a smile and placed the cup on the counter. Cappuccino. Clarke frowned and looked at it, then at Niylah, who reached under the counter and produced a red envelope, identical to the one Clarke had gotten in the mail the day before. She set it next to the cup.

“What—”

“Holiday magic.”

“Um…”

Niylah laughed and pointed at the cup. “This is a cappuccino. Already paid for, though I wouldn’t have charged you anyway because the expression on your face is priceless.” She pointed at the card. “And this appears to be a card.” She tapped the envelope, which was slightly misshapen, because it had a bulge in it. And this was not feeling like an Octavia or Raven prank anymore. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“So who paid for this coffee?”

Niylah was still smiling. “Your Secret Santa.”

“What the fuck,” Clarke muttered. “This is maybe a _little_ creepy.”

“Or it’s a hella good time.”

“Why are you not freaked out about this? You’re part of it.”

“Trust me. If I thought it was dangerous or weird, you wouldn’t be standing here today, at this time. You’d be over there, in your gallery, doing art stuff, and getting ready for your show.”

“You know more than you’re saying.”

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Holiday magic.”

“Oh, my God, this is a fucking Hallmark movie.”

Niylah laughed again. “I hadn’t considered that, but…yeah. This one has a twist, though, that their usual fare doesn’t do.”

Another couple of customers came in and Eric returned from the back. Clarke took the coffee and card and got out of the way of the newcomers.

“So what do I do?” she asked Niylah, who was standing near the espresso machine.

“Pretend you’re in a Hallmark movie?”

She rolled her eyes, which only made Niylah smile.

“Go with it. See what happens. And I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Clarke didn’t respond because Eric recited an order to Niylah, so she instead went and put some sugar in the cappuccino. “Thanks, Niylah,” she said as she left.

“Keep me posted,” Niylah called after her and Clarke wondered what the hell there was to be posted about. How long was this weirdness going to continue? Oh, God, she hoped it wasn’t for the whole rest of the month.

She crossed the street, running Polis crew through her head. Monty and Jasper could have come up with something like this. Murphy, too. Bellamy was more pragmatic, and—fuck, whoever was doing this had a romantic streak and goddammit, it hit her in the feels a little. She shoved the card into her coat so she could unlock the door to the gallery.

Harper? Would she do something like this? Harper and Monty? Didn’t feel right. Echo? No, she and Bellamy didn’t have time for Secret Santa shit like this.

She took the sign off the door and went over to the counter so she could open the card with her letter opener. Seemed appropriate, though there was no writing on the outside, which meant either it had been hand-delivered or mailed to Niylah in another envelope.

Inside was a card identical to the one she had gotten yesterday, but in the envelope was a small skeleton key. She didn’t take it out yet, and instead read the folded piece of paper, which had another typewritten message.

 

Polis Antiques. Dec. 18, Noon. Take the key and go to the counter.

\--Secret Santa

 

She loved that store, and clearly whoever was doing this knew that, too. She took the key out of the envelope. About two inches long, silver with patches of oxidation on some of its surface. It fit snugly in her palm and looked like it probably opened a small box of some kind. The metal warmed to her touch. She put it back in the envelope along with the card and slipped it into her messenger bag next to the first card and thought about it for a bit.

Niylah knew what this was about. Or she knew something. And if it was fucked, she would have told whoever it was to fuck off and then she probably would have given her a heads-up about whatever weird stalker shit had come up.

The question thus remained whether this was a Secret Santa within Polis crew—and she was kind of doubting that—or someone else. Definitely not the guy who wanted her to do his ex. Who the hell else did she know around here who might be doing this?

There was always the chance that it was just a cute little Christmas prank that Raven and Octavia had worked out. And brought Niylah into, clearly. Maybe it was Niylah? That didn’t feel right, either.

The whole thing was out of the blue, basically, and she wasn’t sure how to react. But dammit, she was also intrigued, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

She took Octavia’s list out and went over it again and decided it was perfect. She texted her to let her know then went back into the storage room to get more paintings ready and to prepare herself, because Lexa was coming by to meet her for lunch and as much as she loved one-on-one time with her, she had to make sure that she was prepared for the onslaught of amazing that was Lexa, and that she wouldn’t do or say something she wasn’t ready to reveal just yet.

Which made her think about the cards from the anonymous person. If she didn’t know better, it felt like something Lexa would do, which made no sense. All the years they’d known each other and though they could sometimes get flirty, Lexa had never indicated anything beyond just friends to her.

Or had she?

God, the times Clarke had wracked her brain, looking for some indication that Lexa might be interested, might want more from her. Had she missed a signal? Or had she been in denial about her own feelings and what they might mean? It was only within the past couple of years that she had owned the fact that she was way into her and had been since college.

Lexa, for her part, was pretty good at hiding what she might be thinking, which no doubt made her a damn good lawyer, but Clarke usually could see through it, and Lexa had become comfortable enough to talk about just about anything with her. So could this be Lexa?

God, she hoped. How she hoped. But it made no sense. Why now? All the years between them, and then all of a sudden she does this? That wasn’t Lexa-style. Even her spontaneity had a plan.

A couple of people walked in and she went to play gallery hostess. Traffic always picked up at the holidays and though it could be tiring, she appreciated it, especially when it resulted in sales. She’d been doing pretty well this year, and she wanted that streak to continue.

She finished the sale of one of her small pieces, expertly wrapped it in bubble wrap and brown paper, and sent the customer on his way, but with a reminder about her upcoming show. The door opened again a few seconds later and she looked up as Lexa came in and Clarke totally forgot what she had just been doing.

“Hi,” Lexa said as she approached the counter, carrying a brown paper bag in one hand. She held it up. “Sandwich?” She said it hopefully, and seriously, there was nothing Clarke wouldn’t do for her. Dammit.

“So we’re eating in?”

“I hope that’s okay. I know you’re busy, and I thought maybe it would be better to hang out here.”

“That’s totally okay.” Lexa all to herself for a bit? More than okay.

“Cool.”

“Let me grab some paper towels.” She went into the back to her cleaning supply shelves where she got a roll that was about halfway used. When she returned to the counter, Lexa was using the bag as a small placemat of sorts on the counter, and she had put the wrapped sandwiches on it along with two small bags of chips, two wrapped pickles, and two small bottles of water.

“I went to Jimmie’s,” she said and she handed her one of the sandwiches.

“So I guessed. I’d recognize this particular sandwich wrapper anywhere.” She tried not to admire how Lexa looked in her loose black button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She had her hair loosely tied back, which only emphasized the lines of her face.

Lexa laughed and unwrapped her sandwich.

“Turkey club?”

“Of course. With that chipotle mayonnaise. Love that stuff.” She took a bite. “Mmm.”

Clarke unwrapped hers and when she saw what it was, she smiled. The Portobello was her fave from Jimmie’s, and Lexa had remembered to ask them for extra sprouts and avocado. She took a bite. “So good.”

“Right? I’d move back here for Jimmie’s.”

“Oh, so not for your fab friends who are here?”

“Okay, them, too. Maybe.” She smirked in that way she had and opened one of the water bottles.

“Gee, thanks, Woods.” Clarke rolled her eyes and smiled. “So what do you have going on this weekend?”

“Going to DC tomorrow for an all-day meeting with some ally groups and then I’m probably going to spend some time with Anya and Raven, if she’s around. I’ll see them Monday, but it’s good to have some time outside the group with them.”

“I agree.”

“So what are you doing tomorrow?”

Besides going to an antique store to find out what else this strangely romantic Secret Santa had planned? She didn’t voice that. “Working. This close to the holidays, I put in extra hours. Sunday I’m closing at three and then I’m going to DC to have dinner with my mom.”

“How is she?”

“Fine. The usual. Busy as fuck.”

“And Kane?”

“They’re still super in love. It’s kind of disgusting.”

Lexa coughed as she started laughing.

“Oh, shit. You okay?”

“Fine…just…I probably shouldn’t be actively taking a drink or a bite of anything when I talk to you. You sounded like a teenager. ‘Eww, my mom has a boyfriend’.”

Clarke laughed, too. “I know, right? They’re just hanging out, having a good time, like usual. They’re going to Paris for the new year.”

“Okay, that’s romantic.”

“Disgustingly so.” She smiled. “But ultimately, I’m really glad my mom found somebody else who gets her.”

“Truth.” Lexa opened one of the bags of chips. “We should all be that lucky.” She held Clarke’s gaze for a few moments and the air stilled between them, like the night before when they hugged after the pub. Something familiar but new, a tentative acknowledgement, maybe, of something deeper and Clarke held her breath at the look in Lexa’s eyes and fuck, was it too much to hope that there was?

“Um, so—” Lexa started but the door opened and they both looked up, Clarke feeling almost like they were getting busted for something. If only.

“Two of my favorite people,” Octavia said as the door shut behind her. She stopped, then, and looked at each one of them in turn. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Clarke said a little too quickly. Lexa quietly cleared her throat and was that a flush on her cheeks?

“Okay, well, I wanted to measure the tables. I can come back.” She said with extra innocence in her tone and Clarke gave her a glare, though Lexa didn’t see it.

“No, you’re here. Let’s get it done.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Lexa said and she flicked Clarke another glance, expression enigmatic but it still caused sparks to course through her veins.

“I need to know what I’m dealing with so I can bring appropriate food equipment.”

“Of course. Back in a minute,” she said to Lexa and she walked with Octavia into the back to the larger table.

“I’m pretty sure the table will work for what I have in mind, but I just want to make sure,” Octavia said. She took a small tape measure out of her coat pocket. “Also, how are things with Lexa?” And even though she didn’t look at her, Clarke still blushed.

“They’re fine. She brought me a sandwich from Jimmie’s.”

“Of course she did.” Octavia smirked and measured the table then entered the info into her phone.

“Would you stop? It’s Lexa. We’ve been friends for years.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Griff.”

“Shut up.”

Octavia looked at her and grinned. “Ask her out, why don’t you.”

“We’re friends.”

“Like friends have never become more than that. Exhibit A. Me and Lincoln.” She went over to the tables Clarke had demarcated for drinks and measured them, too.

“That’s all it is. Friends.”

“Uh-huh. Got a bridge to sell you, too.” She entered the measurements into her phone.

“Stop. Please?” She glanced toward the entrance into the main room, hoping Lexa hadn’t heard anything.

“Just putting it out there. Do you have someone to serve the wine and beer and all of that?”

“Niylah.”

“Oh, cool. Won’t worry about that, then. How about trash and recycling receptacles?”

“I’ll probably need more.”

“Gotcha covered.”

“Thanks, O. I’m sorry I’m being such a bitch about all of this.”

She smiled. “You’re not. It’s an important event and I expect you to be uptight about it. Good thing you have me as an awesome friend and sounding board.”

“Definitely.”

“Also, I was right.”

Clarke frowned. “About what?”

“Lexa looks damn good in your gallery.” She gave her an air-kiss and went back to the front area before Clarke could respond, where Lexa was looking at some of the paintings on display.

“I’ll let you know if there’s anything else I think you need to consider,” Octavia said.

“Thanks.” Clarke gave her a hug. “I’ll buy you dinner when this is all done.”

“Awesome.” She looked at Lexa, who had moved closer. “Stop by later, if you have time.”

“I will. I might want another of those Clarke-tastics.” She half-smiled. “Though there is, of course, no substitute for the real deal.” And she shifted her gaze to Clarke then back to Octavia.

“Excellent. And if nothing else, I’ll see you Monday for the dinner.” She gave Lexa a quick hug. “Clarke, let me know if you’re freaking out about anything else and need me to talk you down.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

Octavia laughed and left and a charged silence hung momentarily in the air.

“Your show is going to be amazing,” Lexa said.

“I hope so. There’ll be some important art people here, and I really want it to go well.”

“It will. And fuck, you’re talented.” Lexa turned back to one of the large preview pieces Clarke had put out a couple days earlier. “This is…I don’t fucking have words for how amazing this is.”

Clarke moved closer. “Do you really like it?”

“It’s gorgeous. I mean…that tower in the distance—it’s like a sentinel of some kind. And I love the expanse of forest and the way you’ve made the different shades of green interact…” she lapsed into silence and stared at the painting for a while. Clarke took the opportunity to study her profile.

“That sky is beautiful, too,” Lexa murmured. “And the way you put the clouds in…this really speaks to me.” She looked at her, then. “It reminds me of those drawings you did our sophomore year, a few months after we met.”

“You remember those?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because it was fucking years ago.”

A slow smile lifted the corners of Lexa’s mouth. “They stuck with me.” She pointed at the painting. “That tower was in them.”

“A version of it.” She looked at her painting. “Not sure what it is about that tower, but it’s been with me for a long time.”

“It feels familiar to me somehow. And not just because I saw some of your early interpretations of it. It’s…I don’t know. It kind of calls to me.”

“Same here. And we are now getting totally woo-woo.”

She laughed. “Nothing wrong with that. And I mean it. Watching your evolution as an artist has been a gift. Is this piece in the show?” She motioned with her head toward the painting she’d been admiring.

“Yes, actually. It’s out right now as a teaser piece.” A gift? A swarm of feels broke out in her heart.

“Good.”

The door opened and a group of four people came in.

“And that’s my cue,” Lexa said with a smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Clarke smiled back “Yeah. Definitely. Much better than just talking on the phone.”

"I agree." She gave her a quick hug and Clarke wanted to hold on to her forever, but she stepped away and went to greet the newcomers while Lexa went to put her coat on. She waved at Clarke, and dammit, why didn’t she try to slip her puzzle card into Lexa’s coat?

She left the browsers to their own devices and went to clean up the counter only to see that Lexa had taken care of it for her, even wrapping the half sandwich Clarke hadn’t had a chance to eat and putting it back in the bag along with the pickle and unopened bag of chips. She had also left Clarke a note, written in her familiar elegant handwriting on a piece of paper from the notepad next to the register: _Thanks for taking some time with me. More, please. [smiley face] -- L_

As cute as it was, something about it felt different, though Lexa had said similar things over the years. She folded it up and slid it into her messenger bag and put the bag with her sandwich in it under the counter. After this group of people left, she’d put it in the mini-fridge in the back. She kept an eye on the newcomers as she responded to a few emails on her laptop, but the whole time, anticipatory sparks swirled through her chest, though she had no idea why. Nothing had happened with Lexa, she kept reminding herself.

Except maybe—just maybe—it had.

Or she was just projecting. She sighed, wishing for clarity where Lexa was concerned but still not quite ready to ask for it. And then she had to push those thoughts to the back as one of the potential customers approached the counter.

She’d ponder the Lexa situation later, when she had more time to drive herself crazy.

###

Lexa stepped out of the gallery, heart beating a little faster than usual, like it always did when she was around Clarke. She glanced through the front window and watched for a few seconds as Clarke smiled and greeted the people who had come in. She’d worn her hair mostly down today, and Lexa ached to run her fingers through it.

And God, her smile. The way it lit up her eyes, so fucking blue. She could get lost in her eyes, and had over the years. She knew Clarke’s features by heart, knew the different kinds of smiles she had and what they said about her mood, knew the spark of humor in her gaze and the deeper warmth behind it, and knew that she wanted to learn much, much more.

She started walking, not entirely sure where she felt like going though she did need to get some work done. But it was hard, keeping her attention on that when her mind was filled with Clarke, and on the plan she was busy enacting.

She stopped outside a shop a few doors down from Clarke’s gallery and looked at the text Niylah had sent earlier.

_Clarke came by [hearteyes emoji]_. _Call me after lunch_.

Lexa rubbed the side of her face absently, staring at the text before she texted her back. _Talk now?_ And then she started walking again, thinking that she’d head back to the Air bnb and try to do some work.

Her phone rang. “Hey,” she said when she answered.

“I’ve got a few minutes,” Niylah said. “How was lunch?”

Lexa laughed. “Doing some spying of your own, are you?”

“Just curious,” she responded, a smile in her tone. “So how was it?”

“Not long enough.”

“Next time. Anyway, Clarke came in this morning and I gave her coffee and the card.”

“What did she say?” She sidestepped a couple of young girls as they barreled down the sidewalk, laughing and shouting.

“That it might be a little creepy, but I told her it was holiday magic and also said that she sure as hell wouldn’t be there if I thought the card sender was sketchy, basically.”

Lexa smiled.

“And she said it was like a Hallmark movie and I told her to go with it.”

God, that was so Clarke. Her smile widened and a wave of warmth settled over her. “Do you think she’ll go tomorrow?”

“I have a feeling she will. She’s curious, and since I told her I wasn’t worried, I think she wants to see what’s next. Because if nothing else, she’s always curious.”

“Did she say anything about who she thought it might be?”

“No. But then, you know Clarke tends to keep things to herself until she’s ready to talk about them. I didn’t give her any hints, either.”

“Thank you so much.” Her heartbeat had sped up again.

“Absolutely. I love that you’re doing this. About time.”

“So everybody says.” She turned onto the street with the bnb.

“Maybe the timing wasn’t quite right a few years back. But maybe it is now, and not everybody is willing to take a leap like this and tell somebody what they’re feeling.”

“Except I haven’t yet. Not really.”

Niylah snorted. “The cards are the prelude. Nobody would think those aren’t a gateway to professing feelings for someone.”

“You know how Clarke is. She’ll dissect it from every angle, and consider that it’s a prank, a friend, some random person, or a stalker before she thinks it’s…um—”

“A romantic possibility?” Niylah filled in for her. “Like you? And since she is Clarke, she’s also no doubt wondering if it’s you.”

Lexa stopped in the driveway to the Air bnb carriage house, where she had hugged Clarke the night before. “I’d like to think that.”

“Then do. Because no matter how much you and Clarke deny it, you’d be perfect together.”

“I don’t know about _that_. I just know that I need to tell her how I feel because it’s kind of making me crazy.”

Niylah laughed. “Moreso than usual?”

“Maybe. I mean, Clarke’s always been part of my worldview since we met, and there have been times when I thought maybe there was something between us—”

“Jesus, the two of you are so damn dense,” she said, but with affection. “There isn’t anybody in Polis crew who doesn’t think there’s always been something between you. So trust me. You two are definitely a perfect match and as much as Clarke tries to hide it, she’s into you, too.”

She hoped. _God_ , she hoped.

“And now I’ve got to go. Everybody wants coffee around here this time of year.”

“Huh. Weird.”

“Right? Anyway, I might see you this evening, since I’m going over to Kristen’s. Why don’t you come to the big house for a glass of wine or something?”

“Sure. That’ll be nice.”

“I’ll text you when we bust out the bottle.”

Lexa grinned. “Sounds great. I do have to go to DC early tomorrow, so I probably won’t stay too long, but it’ll be nice to hang out a little.”

“Definitely. Later.” She hung up and Lexa did too, and she held the phone against her chest and stared up at the sky for a moment, smiling despite the flashes of uncertainty. Because there had been moments, she told herself. Recent moments in which she could have leaned in and finally kissed Clarke and she was pretty sure Clarke would have kissed her back.

Like last night. And again today at lunch.

And if she thought about it, there had been other moments over the years like that, but she hadn’t acted on them, worried about what Clarke would say or do. But now, maybe the timing was finally right. She exhaled, trying to relax, and went inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Lexa's pretty damn romantic, too...


	4. Mission: Antique Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke goes to the antique store, then has a talk with Harper. Also, the game's afoot.

Clarke checked the time yet again. 11:15 and God, why did it seem this morning was dragging by? She fired off a text to Lexa because—shit, because she wanted to, because even a text message was somehow a connection to her, and though they had texted back and forth a few times the evening before, in their friendly-just-shy-of-flirty way, she wanted more. Addictive, these feelings for her, but she didn’t want to stop.

 _thx again for lunch_. _let’s def do that again [smile emoji]_ She knew Lexa was in DC at her all-day work thing, but somehow, just putting the text out there helped calm her nerves.

Jesus, why was she freaking out about going to an antique store? She did that all the time. No big deal.

If you ignored the fact that she was going based on the request of an anonymous card, whose sender could logically be anybody, including freakshows or worse. Clarke checked the time again. 11:20. She sighed in frustration then did another circuit of the gallery, checking lighting and, of course, to kill time. Her phone rang and she answered, welcoming the distraction. A local reporter, confirming their three o’ clock to come and talk with her.

That done, she checked the time again. Finally. If she was going to get to the antique store by noon, she needed to leave now. She threw her coat, scarf, and hat on then got her bag and took the key out of the most recent card and slipped it into he pocket. After she put the “Be Right Back!” sign on the door, she locked up and started out on what felt like some kind of weird romantic mission.

The antique store was an eight-block walk, near Octavia’s pub. Maybe she’d pop in and say hi afterward. It was lunchtime, after all, though her place was always busy this time of day.

She passed groups of people laughing and talking, getting into the holiday spirit. Christmas music blared from a few speakers set up on lampposts, and the sun glinted off the remaining snow, and it looked like sparkles. It wasn’t melting because it was too cold for that still, but Clarke didn’t mind. She was dressed down today, in motorcycle boots and jeans, which she tended to wear on days like this.

She slowed about a block from her destination, nervous, and took the key out of her pocket. A little voice in the back of her mind kept telling her that Lexa was responsible for the cards and God, she wanted to believe that. And if she was sure about it, she’d call her right now and tell her to fucking go out with her already, but she still wasn’t sure, though it kind of felt like a Lexa move. But if it was, how the hell did she send a card from Dallas? That was the thing that kept throwing her.

But damn, she wanted to believe it was Lexa. That was the stuff of dreams, right there, that Lexa felt the same about her.

She pulled the door open and a tone sounded in the back. The key was warm in her hand, but it seemed to heat up even more now that she was here. The counter was just off the front door, but Tristan wasn’t around so Clarke went and stood near it, idly scanning the shelves and items. The comfortable clutter made the place look like a shop out of Harry Potter’s world. She loved to come here and find cool items to paint or re-purpose for her gallery or house, but today’s mission was something very different.

“Oh, hey, Clarke,” Tristan said as he emerged from the back. He glanced at his watch and smiled, his bushy mustache lifting slightly. “Thought that might be you.” He went behind the counter.

“Hey,” she said. “And what do you mean, you thought it might be me?”

His smile broadened but he didn’t say anything and instead took a dark wooden box off a shelf behind him and set it on the counter. It might have been a jewelry box at one time, and Clarke liked the way it looked. Kind of unassuming, but it has a great mother-of-pearl inlay on the lid.

“Got the key?”

She opened her hand.

“Then I’ll leave you to it.” He started to move out from behind the counter.

“Wait. Who did this?”

“Your Secret Santa.”

“C’mon,” Clarke pleaded. “You’ve known me for years. Spill it.”

At that, he chuckled. “That’s not how Christmas magic works.” And then he winked and for a second he might have been Santa Claus, with the twinkle in his eyes beneath his bushy eyebrows. “I’ll be in the back if you need anything.” And then he left her alone with the enigmatic box and its key, nestled in her hand.

If this was a Raven or Octavia thing, the second she opened that box something would pop out of it like a jack-in-the-box and scare the fuck out of her. She chewed her lip for a moment, then placed the key in the lock and carefully turned it. The lock clicked and she cracked the lid, preparing for a Raven/Octavia surprise.

It didn’t come, so she opened it a little wider and peered inside. What she saw made her open it all the way to reveal a note-sized envelope resting inside, leaning against the back of the box. It was blank, so she took it out and turned it over. This one had been sealed with sealing wax, and the imprint was a heart.

In other circumstances, she might have decided this was really fucking creepy, but both Niylah and Tristan were in on it, and they wouldn’t have played along if they thought this was something scary. She carefully broke the seal and opened the envelope to find a piece of now-familiar stationery, folded in half. She read the note, again typewritten:

 

Hi, Clarke. Thank you for taking a chance. It makes me

brave, that you have. So I hope you’ll indulge me just once more.

Please meet me at the gazebo, Dec. 21, 11:00 PM.

\--Secret Santa

 

Chills. The good kind. No, the really fucking awesome kind. Clarke read it a few more times because holy shit. Please let this be Lexa. Oh, God, let it be Lexa. It felt more like her with this note, in the politeness and wording and the box thing. Lexa had a formal streak, which came out when she wasn’t sure about something and Clarke just wanted to find her right now and—

What if it wasn’t Lexa?

She put the note back into the envelope and closed the box but left the key in the lock. Before she left she went to the back and leaned in. “Thanks, Tristan.”

He looked up from his workbench where he was inspecting an old gramophone. “All good?”

“Maybe.”

He grinned. “Christmas magic, Clarke.”

She laughed. “We’ll see, I guess. I left the key in the lock.”

“Thanks. See you later.”

She waved and left, the latest note in her coat pocket, and debated stopping at Octavia’s but decided against it because she really wanted to talk about this with someone but she still wasn’t sure whether or not it was Octavia or Raven. They were both pretty good practical jokers, but if this was a joke, it was mean and that wasn’t their style. But she decided she didn’t want to deal with anybody’s teasing right now. So she texted Harper.

 _Got a minute?_ She kept walking, past her gallery to a deli where she bought a sandwich and salad. On her way back to the gallery, Harper texted her back.

_Yes. Call me._

Clarke waited until she was inside and had put her stuff down and gotten out of her coat.

“Hey. What’s up?” Harper answered.

“I’m sorry—are you at work?”

“Yeah, but it’s all good. Office hours right now and you know how students are when finals are winding down. Nobody’s around. You okay?”

“I’m great, but there’s something weird going on. Or—maybe it’s good. I think it’s really good. But I’m not sure.” She said it all in a rush and figured it sounded kind of stupid, when she put it like that.

“Wow. Okay. Back up. What’s happening?”

“I’ve been getting these cards. Well, I mean, I got one in the mail and it had instructions to—” She stopped, organized her thoughts, and then gave Harper the story without being too specific about what the last note had said.

“Yeah, I can see how you’d think that was weird. But on the other hand, it’s also totally romantic.”

“That’s just it. Whoever this is knows a bit about me, which could be really creepy if it’s some rando or it could be really great if it’s someone I like.”

“But what if you don’t like this person _that_ way? That could make for an awkward meeting.”

“Maybe. If it’s a rando, I’m not even going to show up. I’ll just bail.”

“So you’re basically going to do surveillance of the gazebo.”

“Well, yeah. Wouldn’t you?”

She laughed. “I totally would. But whoever it is enlisted Niylah and Tristan, and they both were encouraging, so clearly, they know this person and feel okay about helping with the plan.”

“Which makes _me_ feel okay about it, but I have so many damn questions and it’s three days to the meeting, which feels like forever.”

“Maybe that’s the earliest that person could get into town.”

Clarke’s heart sank. Was that the case? If so, it wasn’t Lexa.

“Think for a minute,” Harper said. “Did you date someone in college who might still have feelings but they moved away? Or someone in the last months or something?”

“Not recently, no. Just casual dating for the past couple of years.”

“Therese?”

That had ended a couple years ago, around the time she opened the gallery. “No. She’s happily married, now. And our breakup was amicable.”

“What about Finn?”

“God, you had to go there,” she said, a little stab of anxiety in her chest.

“Sorry. But he was super-weird about you after you dumped him before you went to do your master’s.”

“That was _really_ weird. We were only together a few months.”

“He got serious fast, though.”

She sighed. “Which is why I kept backing off.”

“I know that. You established good boundaries early on,” Harper said in what Clarke recognized as her patient mentor tone. “But is this something he would do? An elaborate plan like this?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Not to be an ass, but he’s had a few years to come up with something. Does he still have connections in Polis?”

“Not that I know of.” And God, this conversation had turned really depressing. Finn hadn’t had time to really get to know her, but it was possible he had been stalking her for a while—the thought nauseated her.

“I’m sorry to bring that up, but we have to consider it. What does your gut say?”

“It’s not him. And besides, Niylah would have told me that he was coming around.” She immediately felt better when that thought hit her.

“Excellent point. I forgot she helped out during that time. Except the best was when Lexa told him if he bothered you again she would hunt him down and kick his ass off the highest building on campus.”

Clarke remembered that day vividly. She had been at a bar with a bunch of her friends including Lexa and Finn showed up and tried to buy her a drink, which she declined and then she tried to go back to the table but he grabbed her arm and that’s when Lexa appeared, and the expression in her eyes was hard, cold, and predatory, and she issued a warning in a low, dangerous tone. And it worked. He left, and then Lexa had pulled her into a hug and Clarke wanted nothing more than to just stand like that forever, in the safety of her arms.

“Speaking of,” Harper was saying, “maybe it’s Lexa.”

Clarke didn’t respond right away because shit, Harper had hit too close to home.

“Clarke?”

“Yeah. Still here. Lexa what?” But she knew. She just wasn’t sure she wanted to go there with Harper.

“With the cards and note. That makes more sense to me than anything else.”

“Um. Why?”

Harper laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. What are you talking about?” But she knew. She just didn’t want to deal with Harper knowing it, too.

“Jesus, Clarke. You truly are still oblivious about some things. Lexa was way into you in college. All of us had bets about when you’d finally see it and do something about it.”

She leaned back against the front of the counter, a little surprised by her bluntness.

“And I think you’ve been in denial about it. Lexa’s pretty subtle, and it seemed timing for you two never quite worked out the way we all hoped, but…you’re not seeing anyone right now. She’s not serious about anyone, last I heard. So…” she trailed off, her meaning clear.

“I’m…um.” There was no escaping this conversation. Not even anybody coming in off the street to ask art questions.

“So how would you feel, if you go to the gazebo and it’s Lexa, standing there?”

“I—” there weren’t words to describe how incredible that would be.

“Wow. Hit a nerve, did I?”

“Jesus. Fine. Just…fine. It would be fucking amazing if it’s Lexa. There. I said it. Happy?”

“Actually, yes,” she said, and Clarke heard the smile in her voice. “I’d fucking throw a party for you. A three-day rave. The entire Polis crew would be completely into that.”

“What? The rave? Or the Lexa situation?”

She laughed again. "Both. But mostly the latter. So for real. Are you into her? Are my predictions correct?”

Her cheeks flared with heat and she was so glad Harper couldn’t see her. “Fuck,” she muttered. “Yes. Okay? Yes.”

“And is this a new thing or…?”

“No. But like you said, the timing never seemed right.”

“So maybe it is now.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “And it’s entirely possible that this whole card plot has nothing to do with Polis crew. It could be somebody we all knew from college. Maybe even high school, for me and Raven, at least.”

“Maybe. But I’m in a Hallmark movie kind of mood, so my money’s on Lexa.”

She laughed. “Okay, then. And you cannot tell anyone about this. Not about the cards, not that I have feelings for Lexa—nothing. Not even Monty. Please.”

“Okay, but most of us already know you have feelings for her.”

“Harper.”

“I know, I know. You just don’t want to deal with teasing. Sorry. I won’t talk about it. But I _do_ want a post-gazebo update, and I’m really excited for you right now.”

“Why?”

“Because this is cool. And romantic. And I’m hoping it’s Lexa. That’s the ship of the ages, you and Lexa.”

Clarke was about to respond when an older man and woman entered. “I’ve got to go. Duty calls. Thanks for the talk, Harper. I really needed to bounce this off someone.”

“Sure. And don’t worry. I’ve got you covered and your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks. Bye.” She put her phone into her back pocket and went to chat with the newcomers, feeling a little lighter now that she had finally admitted her feelings aloud. Plus, Harper tended to be more logical than either Raven or Octavia in situations like this, and helped bring some clarity. Besides, there was still the chance that they were responsible for this.

But right now, she was leaning toward Lexa again.

And she might be glowing from feels, but so what? She was going to live in this holiday movie space a little longer because it felt pretty damn good.

 

###

Finally, a break. Lexa took her phone out of her bag. She had a few texts, one from Tristan, and she immediately opened that one.

_Mission accomplished._

She exhaled in relief and elation. _How did she seem?_

While she waited for his reply, she opened the text from Clarke and though it was a seemingly innocuous thank you for lunch, it felt different, like an invitation for more. _I’d much rather be doing that with you than this right now_ , she texted back. Kind of playful but nothing too overt. Just as she finished sending that, another text from Tristan came in.

_Clarke-like._

Lexa laughed at that, because she knew exactly what that meant. Curious, a little wary, but willing to uncover another piece of the puzzle. He was adding something, so she waited.

_She was game for it. Took the envelope. She asked who was doing it. Told her that’s not how Xmas magic works._

_Thank you so much_. _Will call later_. _Veggie burgers on me._

_[thumbs-up emoji]_

Lexa stood and stretched. They’d had a working lunch, too, and she needed to move around a bit.

 _We still on for tonite?_ She texted Anya. _On break rn_ , _but done at five, allegedly_. She hoped nothing had come up. Anya hadn’t given her any indication that this was the case, but sometimes last-minute shit came up like some funder wanting her to give a talk to other interested parties about the research the foundation did into biomechanics and the practical application to prostheses and braces. Fascinating stuff, but demanding.

Kind of like Anya. And Raven, for that matter. Yep, that was _definitely_ a good match.

 _All good. See you at seven_ , Anya texted back. _I’ll pick you up at your hotel_.

Satisfied, she returned to the meeting room, where coffee and hot water had been set up for tea and she prepared herself a cup of basic black tea then went to sit down at the big boardroom table for the next stretch of discussions, thinking about Clarke and the meeting she’d requested in the most recent note.

This was it. In about three days, she’d tell Clarke exactly how she felt.

 

###

 

Anya called Harper as soon as she got her text. “Spill it,” she said, and she got up to close her office door.

“Clarke went to the antique store and got Lexa’s latest note.”

“Is she going to meet up with her after her show?” She’d fucking better, anyway.

“It seems that yes, she is.”

“Seems?” She perched on the arm of the big chair she kept in here, for when she felt the need to chill out.

“She’s worried it’s some rando or somebody from high school or college she doesn’t know much about who’s been peeping her, but I got her back around to the fact that Niylah and Tristan would never have played along with it if that was the case.”

“Nice. What else did she say about the meeting?”

“I got the impression she’s going to run a surveillance op and if she doesn’t recognize the person, she’ll bail.”

Anya snort-laughed. “I’m loving that image.” And it was typical Clarke. Lexa would’ve done the same thing.

“Right? Anyway, I also told her that my money’s on Lexa as the card-sender.”

“ _Very_ nice.” Harper was always a voice of reason, so it didn’t surprise her that Clarke had contacted her.

“And I reminded her that all of us have thought there was something between them since college, but the timing maybe wasn’t right but now, maybe it is.”

She grinned. “Virtual fist-bump, Harps. I’ll send you an enabler medal.”

“I also got her to admit she has feelings for Lexa.”

Anya stood, smile widening. “Oh, shit.” That was big. Clarke never talked about her deeper feelings except in certain circumstances and even then, it was sometimes like pulling teeth.

“And she doesn’t want anyone else to know.”

“Oh, please.”

Harper laughed. “I told her everybody already does, but she doesn’t want to deal with the teasing, especially since she hasn’t told Lexa how she feels.”

“Yeah, I get it. Raven and Octavia would go to town with it, more than they already are.”

“I thought you weren’t going to tell them about the card campaign.”

“I haven’t.” Anya took a drink of water from the bottle on her desk. “But they’ve launched a side op.” Because of course they had. Typical Raven. She smiled, because there was nothing she wouldn’t do for Raven, as much as she could drive her nuts sometimes.

“Which entails what, exactly?”

“Nothing too weird. They’re both pushing Clarke to ask Lexa out, and from what I can tell, Octavia has ensured that they were in the same space together a couple of times since Lexa got to town.”

“Sounds okay.”

“Yeah, and I think it’s fine, but you know how they can get. Subtlety isn’t their strong suit.”

She laughed again. “Which is why you’re a perfect foil for Raven.”

“Perfect something.” But she was smiling. “Anyway, I’m having dinner with Lexa tonight. She’s in DC for some all-day meeting thing. And then tomorrow she’s coming over to hang out with me and Raven, who no doubt will continue to tell her that she needs to just ask Clarke out, etcetera ad nauseum. I’ll use dinner tonight to prep Lexa for that.”

“Are you going to tell her that Clarke admitted to having feelings for her?”

“No. That’s Clarke’s story to tell. But I can definitely push the idea a little, since Lexa brought me into this op as second-in-command. It’s like being a campaign manager.” She chuckled.

“I’m just glad one of them is making a move. About damn time.”

“No argument. Anyway, thanks for the update. Good intel. We’ll see you Monday.”

“Definitely. Later.”

Anya ended the call and tapped the phone against her chin for a few moments, pondering what Harper had said. No big revelation on Clarke’s part. You’d have to be buried in a hole on the other side of the planet not to see the chemistry between her and Lexa. And thus far, Clarke had done the tasks Lexa had asked of her, which indicated she was interested and most likely wanted it to be Lexa. But because Clarke was Clarke, she was cautious with her curiosity. But when she made a decision, that was fucking _it_ , so Anya had no doubt that she’d show up at the rendezvous Lexa had proposed, and that she was hoping it was Lexa because she was ready to tell her how she felt. If Clarke wasn’t interested in doing that, she wouldn’t have gone to Niylah’s or Tristan’s.

The only person in Clarke’s mind right now was Lexa, Anya was sure. And like Harper, Clarke’s money was on Lexa being the card-sender. But because Clarke was Clarke, she was going to doubt that a little, because she didn’t ever think things like that could happen to her. Sometimes she was too pragmatic for her own good, a role Lexa normally took.

But to Lexa’s credit, she’d made up her mind about Clarke and her feelings and she’d been patient for a while, but had finally decided to try to help things along. And even if Clarke still wasn’t sure she was ready to take this step, no matter her admission to Harper, Lexa would give her time and space to figure it out.

Anya shook her head. Lexa was almost too good to be true, with her sense of duty and responsibility. But damn, she sure could run an op. Soon, if everything went according to plan and hope, Clexa would finally be a thing.

And then, just because all of this was giving her feels, she texted Raven a mushy little note before she got back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always liked Harper. There should be more Harper. Also, Lexa's cards are giving me feels.


	5. Plumber-butt Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa stops by the gallery to walk with Clarke to Polis crew dinner at the pub and Clarke manages to complete part of her mission.

Clarke stood in her gallery storeroom, assessing. All the pieces that she was going to put up tomorrow morning for the show were placed near the door, ready to go. Jasper and Murphy had offered to help at nine, and Raven, Anya, and Octavia would arrive at noon to set up for the food. The team would then bring the food and drinks between five and five-thirty and get that ready to go by six.

This was going to work. It had to. Because she had a shot here at getting her work into some New York and DC galleries. And this coming semester she was doing a visiting professorship/fellowship at Arkadia University in DC, but she had her assistant and a great student who worked part-time for her at the gallery and they’d be back in town a couple weeks before she had to go for a few meetings.

But through all her thoughts was a constant buzz of Lexa. And it was both exciting and a little nerve-wracking because tonight she was going to get her puzzle card to her. Which might throw some kind of wrench into the gazebo meeting, if Lexa was behind it. Or maybe not. God, this was kind of confusing and she still wasn’t completely sure it was Lexa.

She hadn’t seen her since they’d had lunch, because Lexa had to go to DC the day after that to do some work stuff, she had said, and Clarke had spent the day after that working at the gallery and then she had gone to spend some time with her mom. Well, she’d know soon enough. But God, all this waiting. She thought about the message she’d written on the photograph that had become the puzzle. If nothing else, Lexa would laugh because, she would say, it was typical Clarke bluntness.

Now the question was whether she should add a note that hinted that she suspected Lexa might be the one behind the cards to her.

No, she decided. So should she leave her puzzle card at the Air bnb or slip it into Lexa’s coat at the group dinner tonight or just hand it to her? The latter was scary and could be awkward. She would try at dinner, even though that meant Lexa would put the puzzle together and then have to attend her show. Oh, God. There was just no easy way to do this.

But she was tired of waiting, tired of trying not to feel what she did, and if Lexa wasn’t behind the cards, at least Clarke would finally be honest about her feelings toward her. And there was something kind of liberating about that.

The front door opened and she left the storeroom to greet the newcomer and stopped, surprised, because it was Lexa. “Hey, stranger,” Clarke said with a grin, wondering if the sparks she felt were visible. “I figured you’d already be at the pub.”

Lexa grinned back. “Well, clearly, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d see if you’d like company on your walk over.”

“If it’s yours, I think I can manage that. I’ll check my schedule,” she teased.

“Should I take a number?”

“Yeah. Better hurry. The one is still available.”

She laughed. “I also decided that you should be the first of Polis crew to see.”

“See what?”

And Lexa opened her coat.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Clarke said, after a moment of staring at her sweater. “It fucking lights up.”

“Right? Not sure how long the battery’s going to last, so I’m not going to run it constantly, but I felt you needed the full effect.”

“I’m in awe. I mean, it’s ugly without the lights. But the lights add a whole other dimension of what the fuck to it.”

She laughed. “I’m so glad you think so. Because this might be the winner right here.”

“I don’t think I can dispute that. And who thought it was a good idea to put Santa on the front of a sweater with plumber butt? That right there just pushes it over the edge. I mean—he takes up the whole front, practically.” She shook her head. “I guess it could be worse. There could be Christmas lights on his ass rather than on that poor little tree to the left, there. Is there anything on the back?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lexa shrugged out of her coat and turned around.

“Oh, my God. Seriously?” A big white circle was outlined on the back, in the middle of which was a white capital letter “L”. The letter had a green diagonal line through it.

Lexa was practically chortling. “I scored.”

“You totally did. That will definitely give Jasper competition. I don’t know how you can do worse—or is it better, in this case?—than plumber-butt Santa _and_ ‘No L’. ”

“I feel like I’ve accomplished something,” Lexa said and Clarke laughed. “Mind if I hit the bathroom before we walk over?”

“Of course not. My gallery is your gallery.”

Lexa smirked and raised an eyebrow.

“And…that might possibly have sounded wrong,” she said, feeling a blush working its way up her neck, which only made Lexa laugh again.

“Nice one, Griff. Be right back.” She handed Clarke her coat and went to the alcove where the restroom was.

And as soon as Clarke heard the door shut, she went immediately to her bag and took the envelope out that had her card and the puzzle in it. With Lexa’s coat tucked under her arm, she sealed the envelope then opened the coat. Excellent. It had big interior pockets and one had a couple of cards in it already. She slipped hers into the other pocket then set the coat on the counter and went to put her own ugly sweater on, which was hanging in the back.

“Clarke?”

“Yeah, be right there.” She fixed the collar of her shirt above the sweater’s collar then joined Lexa in the front. “Since you showed me yours…”

Lexa had been looking at one of her paintings. She turned and her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. That is fucking _epic_. Santa riding a unicorn that’s shooting lasers out of its eyes? Where in the hell did you even find that? Because I think it’s something I’d wear to the office anyway.”

Clarke laughed. “It’s just slightly almost cool. And maybe I’ll give it to you after this fabulous event.”

“One can never have too many ugly sweaters, I suppose.” She flashed her a smile and retrieved her coat from the counter and Clarke really hoped she didn’t check the pockets right now because that would be monumentally awkward. Oh, God. She tensed, biting her lip, but Lexa didn’t check, and Clarke relaxed and put her own coat and hat on and grabbed her bag, which had Jasper’s secret Santa present in it, a steampunk novel he’d been wanting. Clarke had included a cool pair of goggles that she’d scored at a flea market that looked kind of aviator-ish and she’d put some steampunk touches on them.

Relax, she told herself. She’d made the choice to tell her, and now she was going to live with it. Besides, if Lexa was the one who had sent her on those errands, then she had nothing to worry about. Right?

She still couldn’t completely convince herself it was Lexa, though. And God, she had all kinds of flutters in her stomach. She had thought a lot about what she’d do if Lexa said no, but not much about what she’d do if she said yes.

That seemed too much to hope for, and she hadn’t wanted to jinx it.

But if Lexa was behind the cards to her, she might actually say yes and holy hell, that was going to make her head explode.

“Wait by the door. I need to set the alarm,” Clarke managed, working to get herself focused on the present, and she went into the back and keyed in the code then joined Lexa. “Okay. Let’s go.” Once they were outside, Clarke locked up.

“So how are things with your mom?” Lexa asked as they headed to the pub. “I know you saw her yesterday.”

“Good. She’s busy, as usual. Some things don’t change. She probably won’t be at my show.”

“Damn. Sorry to hear that.”

“It is what it is. Sometimes she can’t get the time off she wants to. I told her you’re in town, though, and she sends her best.”

“Excellent. Indra and Gustus send their love to you and they want me to get photos of the ugly sweaters, so be ready to go on display.”

“Definitely. And how are they? Anything new since last week?”

“Nope. Still getting ready for Christmas.”

“Are you going to see them?”

“Not this year. I think I'll be back in town toward the end of January, so I’ll see them then. And they decided to spend Christmas in Florida this year."

Clarke gave her a look. “Wait. Are you going to work through Christmas?”

“Not sure.” She was hedging, and Clarke heard it in her tone.

She stopped, which caused Lexa to stop, too. “What do you mean?” Clarke asked. “You can’t even take a day off?”

“I might be able to. I might not. It depends on some other things.”

“On what? There aren’t trials or depositions or hearings on Christmas.”

Lexa half-smiled, a slow, entirely too sexy thing to do and Clarke stared at her mouth for a second, then jerked her gaze back to her eyes. “Okay, before I address that,” Lexa said, “it’s kind of hot, that lawyer-talk coming from you.”

“I’ve picked up some of your lingo. So what the hell? You seriously aren’t taking some time off on Christmas? That’s fucking blasphemy.”

Lexa laughed. “Against what?”

“Me. If you’re going to be in town still, you are spending Christmas with me and my mom or Raven and Anya. Or all of us. Break that up however you want, but no way am I letting you hang out alone.”

Lexa’s expression softened and God, it went right to Clarke’s heart, even though she suddenly remembered that in Lexa’s coat pocket was something that would change the dynamic between them, and maybe not for the better. Oops. She definitely hadn’t thought this through.

“Thank you,” Lexa said. “But right now, I’m just waiting on a couple of things and that will determine what I end up doing for Christmas.”

“So when will you know?”

“A day or two.” She gestured for them to start walking again.

“Your job is an asshole.”

She laughed again. “It’s just the way things go sometimes. And I really appreciate your offer. It would be cool to see your mom and hang out with you.”

“God, Lexa. How long have you known me? And the rest of us? Polis crew takes care of its own.”

Lexa didn’t respond and before Clarke thought _this_ through, she said the next thing that popped into her head. “Besides, I like having you around. So there’s that.”

“Well, I like being around you. So there’s _that_ , too.”

And Clarke’s brain might have short-circuited a little as she processed what she had just heard and then she remembered again that in Lexa’s coat right now was a ticket to something either amazing or soul-crushing and it caused a weird mixture of anxiety and giddiness in her stomach.

“Then it all works out,” she managed after a few seconds. Maybe. She glanced at Lexa and ran into her gaze.

“Yeah. It does,” she said, a thoughtful expression in her eyes.

Thankfully, the pub was just ahead and Bellamy and Echo had pulled up and were getting ready to go in and Bellamy ran over to give Lexa a hug.

Bellamy hugged Clarke next and she relaxed a little, deciding that for whatever reason, telling Lexa how she felt was going to be liberating. And if Lexa didn’t feel the same way about her (no matter what Harper thought), hopefully they could continue to make a friendship work, because Clarke would miss that in ways she didn’t even want to contemplate.

So she didn’t, and instead went into the pub, holding on to this night, because after the party, everything was going to change.

###

“Swear to God, Clarke has heart eyes,” Raven said. “I mean, look at her.” She watched her, on the opposite side of the room where she was talking to Murphy, Lincoln, and Lexa.

“Clarke’s naturally flirty, though.”

“It’s different with Lexa,” Raven sipped her beer, enjoying the casual intimacy the back room of the pub provided, and the explosion of ugly-ass sweaters that everybody had worn. Lexa had edged Jasper out this year, with plumber-butt Santa, as Clarke called it, but Clarke’s sweater got lots of love, too.

“Chill, Dr. Ravenstein. Let nature take its course.” She shoulder-bumped her.

Raven gave her a look.

“I mean, what more is there to do right now? They’re here in the same room.”

“This looks like a plot,” Anya said as she approached and slid her arm around Raven’s waist. Raven loved that, and she pressed against her.

“Nope. No plotting going on here. Just observations.”

“Oh, of course.” Anya laughed and kissed Raven’s forehead.

“God, you two.” Octavia made gagging noises.

“Ha ha, O. Like none of us have seen you and Lincoln get all cray over each other,” Raven shot back.

“Point to Reyes,” Anya said.

Octavia laughed. “Yeah, okay. But right now, let us continue to observe the other, even _more_ obvious ship in the room.” She gestured with her chin toward Clarke and Lexa.

“Will they _please_ hook up?” Raven muttered.

Anya laughed and hugged her closer. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”

“If you would just tell me what she said Saturday when you went to dinner with her, Octavia and I could have a better handle on what more we need to do.”

“Yeah. Did she say anything about Clarke?” Octavia asked.

“Seriously? Kind of off the rails there, don’t you think? Lexa and I _are_ family. So we catch up with lots of things.”

“But did she say anything about Clarke?” Raven pushed. “Because she sure as hell didn’t say anything much about her when we had lunch with her yesterday. Besides talking a little about her show.”

“Maybe because she doesn’t want to talk about Clarke or any potential feelings she might have. Maybe she wants to sort it out herself. You know how she and Clarke are. Also, they’re adults. If they want to get together, they will.”

“Although it would totally suck if one was into it and the other wasn’t.” Octavia took a sip of her soda. “That might have repercussions throughout Polis crew.”

Raven had thought about that, but dismissed it. “Highly unlikely. I have run the figures, and there is an extremely high probability that Clexa will sail.”

Octavia shrugged “If that ship ever gets out of port.”

Anya laughed. “God, the two of you. Give it a rest and let things run their course.”

“And on that note—anybody want another beer?”

Anya nodded. “We’re at Clarke’s tonight, so hook me up.”

“Same.” Raven handed her near-empty bottle to Octavia.

“Be right back,” she said and left.

Raven waited a few seconds before she said anything else. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Anya pulled away and looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Clarke and Lexa. Usually you’re all about making sure they hook up. Which is funny, coming from your snarky self.”

“And I support this ship. But I also know Lexa’s under some stress at her job, so I’m just being chill and letting her talk about whatever the hell she wants to.”

Raven sighed and hugged her close again. “I know you’re right. I just want them to be happy.”

“They _are_ happy. They’re strong, independent women who like their jobs, their lives, and they get shit done.”

“Okay, I want them to be _happier_. With each other.”

Anya laughed and tipped her chin up. “I fucking love you, Raven Nosy Reyes.” And she kissed her and Raven forgot, for a moment, everything else. “And promise me you’ll ease up on Clarke about Lexa,” she murmured against Raven’s mouth. “She’s super-stressed about her show.”

“I _have_ eased up. But once her show’s over, all bets are off.”

Anya sighed, but with affection. “Then for their sakes, they’d better hook up.”

Raven looked over to where Clarke’s group now included Monty and Harper. Lexa said something that made everyone laugh and Clarke squeezed her shoulder and leaned into her for a second before she let go.

“Exactly my point,” Raven said. “If they know what’s good for them.”

Anya laughed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No "L". Get it? :D
> 
> Also, please find me a plumber-butt Santa ugly sweater.


	6. Stress Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa finds a card in her coat. Meanwhile, Clarke is totally stressed getting ready for her gallery show.

Lexa hung up and groaned. Another fucking meeting in DC, and on the day that she had wanted to surprise Clarke and help her set up for her show. Fortunately, it was just the one, right after lunch, so she could head back before traffic got worse than it usually was.

She hadn’t even had coffee yet. What a pain in the ass. She went to shower and get dressed, thinking that she should probably do laundry soon. Fortunately, the carriage house had a laundry room downstairs.

By nine she was nearly ready to go and she decided she’d grab a cup of coffee at Niylah’s on the way out of town. She checked her bag to make sure she had what she needed for the day, then went to get her coat, which she had tossed onto the couch in the living room area.

Next to it was her ugly sweater that had won the competition this year, and she picked up her coat and regarded the sweater for a few moments, thinking about the night before. A whole lot of fun, made even moreso because of Clarke. Lexa smiled, because no matter what she was doing or where she was, if Clarke was there, it made it infinitely better.

And shit, tonight was _the_ night. The night she told Clarke directly how she felt and could they please do something about it?

And where did she put her wallet? She had it last night—it had to be in her coat, which had a lot of pockets, and she tended to put it in the inside ones, usually in the ones that zipped, but she might have dropped it into one of the bigger ones.

Yep, there it was. She took it out and then realized that there was something in the other inside pocket. Shit, had she forgotten to give the secret Santa card to Echo? No, she distinctly remembered doing that. So what the hell was this?

She took the card out and stared, because her name was written on the front of the envelope in calligraphy.

“What the hell,” she said softly and she dropped her coat back on the couch and hefted the envelope, which was thicker than regular cards. Carefully, she opened it and took the card out, noting that there was something inside, so she went to the table and opened it, to reveal several puzzle pieces, which she dumped carefully out.

The interior of the card read “Extra Secret Santa,” also in calligraphy. She spread the pieces out and studied them for a while, noting that there was writing on some of them, but she clearly needed to put the puzzle together to read it.

So she did, assembling the image quickly, which she recognized as a painted scene from historic Polis. And then she read the message. And re-read it. Several times.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, heart hammering in her chest.

Did Clarke know, then, that she was behind the cards sending her on those errands? Was this a response to them? She studied the puzzle again. No, this took time. Clarke had to paint the scene, then put it on the backing board, then cut it into pieces. She’d been doing this before she got the first card, Lexa was sure.

Timing, Niylah had said. The timing maybe wasn’t right during their college years. And now here they were, acting on whatever similar impulse they shared, ready to take a chance, but not sure what the other would say.

Was she ready for this? All the time she’d wanted to be more to Clarke than just a friend, all the time she’d spent fantasizing, she’d never really thought about what would happen if Clarke felt the same way.

She ran her fingers over the surface of the painting.

Yeah, she was ready.

So ready.

She took a picture of the completed puzzle and its message because she wanted to look at it throughout the day, though it was already inscribed on her heart. How the fuck was she going to be able to get anything done today?

Should she call Clarke right now and tell her _yes_ she’d have dinner with her and _yes_ she’d be more than friends? Yes to all of it. Everything.

Which would totally throw her plan for revealing herself later that night right out the window. Plus, she wanted to respond to her in person. Something like this required a personal touch.

She was smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. “Fucking best day _ever_ ,” she said into the room’s silence, and then she fist-pumped and whooped.

And fuck, she was late. She needed to leave, like, a half-hour ago. She grabbed her phone, bag, and coat, and raced out the door, still grinning, and floating, she was sure, right to the car. And at some point today, she would text Clarke to tell her she was in DC and would see her soon.

Fucking hell, best day _ever_.

###

Clarke frowned and studied the layout of the room again. Jasper and Murphy had done a great job with helping her set up more portable display panels, which helped create a sense of intimacy in a normally big room, and provided little stations, for lack of a better term, to view a few pieces at a time. They had placed some near certain lighting while Clarke had put portable cordless display lights either on some of the panels or set up near them on the floor, out of the flow of traffic.

She had closed the gallery today, and lowered the shades on the front windows to keep the element of surprise for those who attended her show, but she’d been fielding lots of calls regarding the event, so she was already a little frazzled on top of the stress and anticipation.

Her phone rang and she checked it. Not Lexa, and her stomach clenched again, thinking about her. “Hey, O. Where are you?”

“Out back ready to unload. Come and get us.”

“Be right there.” She shoved her phone into her jeans pocket and hurried to the back entrance, a heavy, solid metal door that she pushed open.

“Santa’s helpers, reporting for duty,” Raven announced. She had a baseball cap on and a lightweight down jacket and she was wearing one of her older braces on her left leg that offered maximum support. Anya stood behind her.

“Yeah, Griff. Same, here.”

“Yep,” Lincoln said as he helped Octavia start taking boxes out of their SUV. He was wearing a Santa hat and it made Clarke smile. He was also working on a goatee, and it suited him.

Raven and Anya helped with the rest of the boxes.

“All good?” Lincoln asked.

“We’ve got it, babe,” Octavia said, and she pulled him into a kiss. “See you later.”

“For sure.” He grinned and looked at Clarke. “Excited to see what you’ve got out.”

“There’s some new stuff that nobody’s seen yet, except me, of course, since I had to paint the damn things.”

“For real?” His eyes lit up. “This is not to be missed.”

She laughed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Always. I’ll see you tonight. If anybody needs anything, call or text. I’ll be mostly at the pub.”

“’Kay, Dad,” Raven said and then she practically jumped into Clarke’s arms. “Oh, my God, Clarkie, I so missed you.”

“You just saw me this morning. In the kitchen with coffee and donuts.”

“I don’t care. I still miss you.”

She chuckled. “Your girlfriend is awesome for getting those, by the way.” She looked over at Anya and smiled. “Please stay with me more often.”

“Right?” Raven released her. “So are you all good in terms of paintings? Or do you still need help putting stuff up?”

“No, that’s handled. Jasper and Murphy were here and helped with that. But Octavia will be setting the tables up for the food and as much as it freaks me out, I’m putting her in charge of that and of adding a little more Christmas.”

Raven’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.” She put the back of her hand to Clarke’s forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking to make sure you don’t have a fever and are thus delusional.”

Octavia laughed. “I wondered, too, when she agreed to this, but here we are. So Clarke, you go do gallery shit and we’ll deal with the food equipment and the tables.

“You sure?”

“Yes. We’ve got this. Go stress out over paintings.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She went back to the front and checked her phone again for about the thousandth time.

Still no word from Lexa and she wasn’t sure what to think. She was pretty sure that Lexa hadn’t found her card the night before, since Octavia had put all the coats into the back office and the only time Clarke saw Lexa go back there was to get her coat to leave, basking in her ugly sweater victory, though Clarke’s Santa-laser-unicorn was also a favorite.

She forced herself to stop freaking out. It was possible Lexa hadn’t found the card yet.

But what if she had, and it put her in an awkward position? Maybe Lexa didn’t think of Clarke in those terms, and now Clarke had put it out there, that she was interested in a little more with her, and—fuck. That scenario meant that Lexa wasn’t the one who had sent her the errand cards.

But then again, if she was, maybe it wasn’t supposed to be romantic.

Jesus, how could it _not_ be romantic? Who did that just out of being friends? A prank, sure. Romance, yes. Just friends? No. It was more than that.

But was Lexa behind it?

She was being ridiculous. If Lexa had found her card the night before, she probably wouldn’t text her to tell her they were just friends. Lexa did things like that in person.

Which would suck so hard.

Her phone dinged and she almost dropped it, her heart hammering.

Harper. She was both disappointed and relieved.

_How’re things going?_

_Fine_ , Clarke texted back. _O and Raven are here. Murphy and Jasper were here earlier._

_Good to know. And the other matter?_

She chewed her lip, wondering what exactly she should say. _meeting’s still on for tonite, but if it’s some rando, not staying._

 _Sounds like a plan. See you in a bit_. _[smiley emoji, heart heart heart]_

“I was hoping Lexa was your secret Santa mission this year,” Raven said right behind her, and she nearly jumped again. Anya exchanged a look with Raven and Raven added, a little too quickly, “But that photo of the Potomac Monty gave you is really nice.”

“Yeah, it is. I told him if he had more stuff like that I’d put it up in here, see if we could get him some sales.”

“Cool. And you know Jasper will figure out some kind of cosplay with those goggles you gave him.”

She laughed. “He’d better.” She put her phone in her pocket and made an expansive gesture around the room. “What do you think?”

Raven looked around and nodded. “It looks really good. And I’m super-excited about this. I feel all fancy or some shit. Me at a big-time artist’s show.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “I’m not a big-time artist.”

“Just a matter of time,” Anya said.

Octavia called for some help in the back and they all responded and Clarke forced herself to focus on getting everything else ready, and not to obsess over Lexa (too much, anyway).

A couple hours later, she did yet another walk-through and checked all the lights. Again. God, she needed to quit obsessing about that. And about Lexa, who still hadn’t called or texted, and anxiety sat in her stomach like a big, cold rock. Had it freaked Lexa out that much? She adjusted one of the bits of holly Octavia had added to the pine garlands on the front of the food table. She and Raven had also strung lights on it and the other table as well as the front counter. Small, clear bulbs that added a warm glow when turned on. Clarke went and stood by the front door to see what the place looked like when coming in off the street.

“What do you think?” Octavia asked as she joined her.

“You were right. It looks great. Really great. You nailed the country Christmas without getting cheesy.”

Raven came over, too. “Damn. We’re good at this shit, O.”

“Right?” She put one arm around Clarke’s shoulders and the other around Raven’s. “We’ll come back with the food about five-fifteen.”

“Perfect.” Clarke pulled them both in closer.

“It looks great,” Anya said. “Well done.”

“Thanks a bunch, all of you. I know I’ve been a stress monster about this, and you all just helped me so much.” She stepped away from Raven and Octavia and gave Anya a quick hug.

“Polis crew,” Octavia said, and held her fist up  so Clarke could fist-bump her. “So what time is Niylah getting here?”

“Around five-thirty,” Clarke said.

“Perfect,” Raven smiled. “That gives you a couple of hours to get yourself all sexy. Not that you aren’t already sexy. Just, you know, gallery show sexy.”

“And what exactly is _that_?” Clarke asked with a laugh.

Octavia shook her head. “Spare us, Griff. You’re gorgeous. Own it. Make Christmas your bitch, after all.”

Anya almost spit out the water she was drinking. “I might love that saying, now.”

Raven laughed. “Of course you do.”

“How about I just make this gallery show my bitch?”

“Fine. Baby steps,” Raven said with an exaggerated shrug. “But having this awesome gallery show right before Christmas kind of makes Christmas your bitch, anyway.”

Clarke laughed. “Whatever works. And now group hug.”

“Aww,” Raven said and Octavia smiled as Clarke pulled them in.

“You too, Anya. I don’t care about that snarky exterior. I know you’re totally a cinnamon roll underneath.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anya said but she participated in the hug.

Octavia broke off first. “We’ll see you in a couple of hours, Griff, but call if you notice anything that we should take care of.”

“Thanks, O. See you in a bit. Raven, what are you and Anya doing now?”

“Going back to your house to get sexy, too. Also, Anya and I will judge your outfit.”

“Which definitely does not make me feel less stressed.”

“We’re just here to ensure you put your sexiest, most professional self out there,” Raven said, tone innocent.

Clarke’s phone dinged from the counter where she had put it a while back, thinking it would help her quit obsessing about Lexa (it didn’t, but at least she wasn’t checking it every few seconds).

“C’mon, crew,” Octavia said. “Help me make sure I’ve got everything done that needs to be done and then we can all go get sexy.”

“Sexier, you mean,” Anya said.

Clarke listened to them banter as they went into the back and she went to check her phone and a mixture of relief and trepidation rolled through her. Lexa. She opened it.

_Sorry I didn’t touch base earlier. Meeting in DC again. Headed back. Will see you soon and looking forward to it!_

That was why she hadn’t heard from her. She studied the text, trying to read between the lines. No mention of her card, which probably indicated that she hadn’t read it yet.

Fuck.

Or she had, and she didn’t want to address anything with her via text. Maybe she didn’t feel that way about her. But wouldn’t that mean the other cards weren’t from Lexa?

Double fuck.

Clarke fought the urge to call her and just flat-out ask. On the plus side, Lexa had just said she was looking forward to seeing her soon, so there was that…? She chewed her lip. She should have just told her face-to-face. Because now she was both confused and even more anxiety-ridden. Goddammit.

And right now, she needed to deal with getting ready for the show. She couldn’t do anything right now besides call Lexa and demand an accounting, and that seemed shitty. Whatever was going on, it was something that needed to be said in person.

She got her stuff, set the alarm, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uptight Clarke is uptight.
> 
> But Lexa has a major case of feels...


	7. Showtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the gallery show, which also involves some miscommunications and finally, a Clexa collision course!

“Wow,” Niylah said when Clarke opened the front door of the gallery for her. “You look absolutely gorgeous.”

“Thank you. So do you.”

Niylah smiled and stepped into the gallery and Clarke locked up behind her.

“That dress is fabulous on you,” Clarke said, admiring the way it hugged her hips and shoulders. “I love the color.” Niylah had gone with a dark green off-the-shoulder cocktail-style dress and she had her hair down.

“Well, I wanted to look good for this auspicious occasion. And oh, my God, the space is beautiful. Well done.”

“Raven, Octavia, and Anya helped with the finishing touches. Jasper and Murphy were here this morning helping me set up panels.”

“Polis crew is the shit. So where’s the wine? Let’s get rolling.”

Octavia emerged from the back carrying another tray of finger food that she set over a warmer on the large table. “Oh, hi, Niylah. I’ve got the wine bottles on one pushcart and glasses on another so all you need to do is roll ’em out here and set up. We’ve got a tub of ice for the white—you’ll see it at the station. Anya already put the sparkling water out and sliced limes and lemons for it.”

“That’s wonderful. Thanks. And you look amazing.”

Octavia smiled and Clarke decided she really should wear her hair up more often and she really should wear dresses like that more often, too.

“Hey, O, are we good out here?” Raven said in the doorway to the back. “Oh, hi, Niylah. Looking good.” She gave her a thumbs-up.

“You, too. We should all wear dresses more often.”

“No, thank you,” Anya said from behind Raven. “Once or twice a year is fine for me.”

Clarke laughed. “What do you think, Raven?”

“I personally agree with Niylah.” And she gave Anya a heated look.

“Oh, I see that got a rise out of you,” Octavia said. “Nice blush.”

“I don’t blush.” Anya glared at her then disappeared into the back. Raven and Octavia grinned at each other.

“Okay, let me get the wine going,” Niylah said and she went into the back, Octavia following.

Raven studied Clarke for a few moments.

“What?” she asked, glancing down, thinking something had gotten onto her dress.

“You are fucking off the chain sexy right now. And beautiful. I mean, not that you aren’t when you’re not dressed like that, but damn, Griff. I’d hit that.”

Clarke stared at her for a beat then laughed. “What? This?” And she gestured at herself. She’d chosen a dress that covered her shoulders but it was a scoop neck, and exposed a bit of cleavage. Its soft bronze pattern—almost stylized paisley shapes that evoked some Victorian elements—overlay a black background. She’d worn heels that matched the bronze, but she’d also brought street clothes for after the event because fuck it, she wanted to see who had sent her the cards, whether it was Lexa or not. If it was, then everything was great. If not—she decided not to think about that.

“Totally. Except I’m a little worried that people won’t be looking at your art. You might possibly be _too_ sexy.”

“Thank you, fashion consultant. Now can we please get everything else set up?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Raven went to help Octavia and Anya in the back and a few seconds later Niylah emerged, pushing a cart with bottles of wine.

Clarke helped her with that, and also with the glasses and by quarter to six everything seemed to be done.

“Are we ready?” Raven asked.

“Hold on.” Clarke went to the counter and tuned her music streaming service to a holiday mix station. “Is that too loud?”

“No, just right,” Octavia said. “You want festive background, but not too loud that people can’t hear themselves ponder how good an artist you are.”

“Anya, you sure you’re up to this?” Clarke asked.

“Being your unofficial manager? Hell, yes. I will sell the living shit out of your paintings _and_ act as your security and agent.”

Clarke smiled. “Okay. Let’s do this.” She went and unlocked the front door while Anya opened the blinds.

And to her surprise, there were already people waiting to come in. Probably for the food and wine, but whatever. If they relaxed enough, they might buy something.

“You’ve got this,” Octavia said in a low voice behind her and she squeezed Clarke’s hand before she went to hover near the food table.

And for the next half hour, she did. She totally did, and it was a steady stream of people, including two art critics Clarke recognized from art mags based in New York and Los Angeles. How the hell did _that_ happen? But she chatted them up, along with a journalist from the local Polis media and another one from DC. Promising. Also, two of her larger pieces had already sold and it was just thirty minutes in. Anya was helping monitor that, too, so that was a big help.

“Damn, Clarke,” Jasper said when she had a free moment. “You are mad talented.”

Murphy snorted. “What the hell did you think she was doing all these years?”

“Dude. It’s not like I’ve gotten the full Clarke effect. One painting at a time, okay, yeah, Clarke can do cool shit with paint and pencils. But when you see, like a retrospective like this, then you see the full gamut. Epic.”

“Why thank you. May I quote you on that?” Clarke teased. “Also, you both look very nice and thanks for helping me this morning.” She tugged on Jasper’s tie.

“No worries. Glad to help. Plus, free beer.” Jasper held up his bottle.

“Some things never change,” Harper said to him as she approached. “Clarke, you look fucking hot.”

“Understatement,” Murphy said, and Clarke rolled her eyes at him.

“What? It’s true,” he said with a shrug.

“Anyway, oh, my God, this is—wow. I love your work even more,” Harper said. “Monty is kind of obsessing about that small one you have over there.” She pointed at him, where he was talking with Bellamy and Echo and gesturing at one of her paintings on one of the freestanding display panels. “And he’s telling random people that he went to college with you.”

Murphy snorted and Clarke laughed.

“But it is helping sell anything?”

“Probably. You know how endearing he can be.”

“That’s legit,” Jasper said. “He can convince anybody to do anything. So if you want anything here sold, tell Monty.”

“Speaking from experience, are you?” she teased and he shrugged.

“Seriously, Clarke, This is pretty amazing. And there are so many people here.” Harper looked around the room, which was pretty packed. “Pretty sure Monty and I would love to have one of these works.”

“Let me know. I can cut you a great deal, since I know the artist.” Clarke winked at her just as Lincoln came up and gave her a hug.

“This freaking rocks,” he said. “I love it. Also, you look great.”

“Thanks. Did you just get here?”

“No. Been here for a while. Just wanted to look around. Octavia’s putting me to work in a minute, though.”

“Of course she is,” Murphy said and Jasper laughed.

Lincoln said something back that Clarke didn’t catch and then he and Murphy and Jasper started talking about holiday plans.

“So,” Harper said. “How are things on the Lexa front?”

“Please don’t stress me out more.”

She frowned. “Did something happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does this change anything about tonight?”

“No—maybe. Honestly, I can’t right now with that.”

Harper was about to respond when Anya interrupted.

“Clarke, I’ve got another sale over here.”

“Okay. I’ll catch up with you later,” Clarke said to Harper and then she went to talk to the buyer for a bit, which she liked to do when someone purchased something of hers. The buyer in this case was an older man who wanted a particular painting as a gift for his wife. She closed the deal and he took the receipt with a smile.

“I’ll pick it up tomorrow afternoon, if it’s okay.”

“That’s fine. Thank you so much.”

“My wife is somewhat of an art aficionado and she’s had her eye on your work for a while, now. This is perfect.”

“I appreciate that. And please tell your wife to stop by when she’s in the area.”

“I will. Thank you.” He moved off toward the wine table and Clarke put a “sold” sticker on the painting’s tag.

“Hey,” said an all-too familiar voice and Clarke looked up, heart pounding. And holy shit, how could a simple black cocktail dress look so fucking good? Was it because it exposed her shoulders (good God) and the tattoo on her right arm? Or was it because she was wearing her hair to the side? Or the sparkle in her eyes? Maybe the half-smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth?

“Hi,” Clarke said, a little uncertain, but maybe she shouldn’t have been because Lexa gave her a quick hug. Too quick. Clarke wanted to stay wrapped in her arms as long as possible.

“You look completely stunning.”

“You’re one to talk. When did you get back?”

“A couple hours ago. But back to you. There are no words for how amazing I think you look right now.” She smiled, maybe a little shy, and Clarke wasn’t sure what to make of that statement or of Lexa’s reaction.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Lexa started to respond when Raven interrupted.

“Anya’s looking for you—oh, my God, Woods. It isn’t legal for you to be seen in public like that.”

“I know, right?” Clarke said. “Totally unfair.”

“Okay, okay,” Lexa said. “That’s funny, coming from both of you. I’d say we all clean up pretty well.”

“Clarke—” Anya said. “Oh, hey cuz. And who the hell let you out looking like that?”

“We were just saying that.” Raven raised her eyebrows up and down.

“Go stand in front of some paintings,” Anya said to Lexa. “Encourage people to buy them.”

Lexa smiled. “I think Clarke’s got that handled very well in that dress.”

“So _both_ of you do it. Let’s clear this damn gallery out. Speaking of, I’ve got someone interested in the big piece by the door.”

“Excellent.” Clarke shot Lexa a look. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Not a chance.”

And again, something seemed to hover in the air between them, something strong and deep. And definitely something Clarke wanted to explore, but it was also confusing because was it just Lexa, being kind of flirty with her like she usually was? Or was it Lexa who had read her card?

She followed Anya to the front of the gallery, but shot a look back at Lexa, who was chatting with Raven and Bellamy, now, and her back was to her and oh, God. Her dress was cut down past her mid-back, and the tattoo along her spine was visible.

She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to Anya and the young couple standing next to the painting.

“Hi. I’m Clarke Griffin and I’d be glad to answer any questions you might have about any of the pieces here.”

The two men exchanged a glance and smiled. “We would love to hear more about this one,” one said.

She gave them a bit of the background of her process on it and talked about the types of paints she had used, and soon a few other people had gathered around.

“Well, I love it,” one of the men said. “And we’re going to buy it.”

“Excellent,” Anya said smoothly. “I’ll take care of that for you.”

And then Clarke was again engulfed by people asking questions about some of the pieces and about her history as an artist.

Finally, she was able to make her way to Niylah where she got a bottle of water.

“Seems to be going well," Niylah said. "How are you holding up?”

“Good. Thanks for helping.”

“Any time.”

“Hi, honey.”

Clarke almost dropped the bottle. “Mom—oh, my God. I thought you couldn’t make it.”

“I rearranged a few things because I know how important this is.”

“I—wow. This is such a great surprise.”

Abby laughed and hugged her. “You look beautiful and I’m frankly overwhelmed at what’s happening here. I’m so proud of you. And I did want to surprise you. Did it work?”

Clarke stared at her. “Um…totally. Thank you. And you look good, too.” And she did, in a plain classic black skirt and a loose white blouse.

“I think you’d say that even if I was in jeans. Anything not scrubs looks good.”

“I might agree. Where’s Marcus?”

“Here,” he said as he appeared from between a couple of groups of people gathered around one of the portable display panels. “Hi, Clarke.” He carried two glasses of white wine and he handed one to Abby. He was wearing a slim-cut suit, which looked good on him, and he was sporting a neatly trimmed goatee these days. He gave her a one-armed hug around the shoulders.

“You look lovely,” he said. “And this is so cool, being here for one of your art shows.”

“Thanks for coming. Are you staying the night?”

“Yes. We’re at Rusty’s,” Abby said, referencing one of the local BnB’s in the historic district. “And we’re hoping you’ll have breakfast with us tomorrow.”

“That would be great. At Rusty’s?”

“How about the Terrace instead? At nine?”

“Yes. I’ll open tomorrow at noon.”

Abby’s expression brightened even more. “Great. And oh, my God—Lexa. How are you? And you look wonderful.”

“Hi,” Lexa said as Abby pulled her in for a hug.

Clarke gave her a helpless look and Lexa flashed her a smile before she extricated herself and gave Kane a quick hug, too.

“Clarke said you were in town. I’m so glad we get to see you. If you’re around tomorrow morning, you’re welcome to join us for breakfast.”

“I’m not sure. I might have to go to DC again,” she said apologetically. “But if that doesn’t happen, I’d love to. If it’s okay with Clarke. She might want to get caught up with you both.”

“Whatever,” Clarke said with an affectionate eyeroll. “I can catch up with them any time. So yes, it would be great if you joined us.” She looked at Abby. “I also told Lexa that she will not be alone on Christmas.”

“Oh, hell, no,” Abby said. “You’ll have Christmas with me and Clarke. That is, if you don't have to go back to New York. And Marcus will probably stop by.”

“Thank you,” Lexa said. “But I don’t want to be too much trouble.”

“It’s not. We’d love it if you joined us.” Abby clinked her wine glass against Lexa’s and Clarke suddenly wondered if it was a good idea, inviting her, given the current situation. Maybe Lexa was trying to politely decline, because things were about to get awkward between them.

But then Lexa caught her eye and flashed her another one of her smiles and Clarke relaxed, only to tense up again because Lexa hadn’t found the card. Otherwise, she would have said something. So, yes, things were probably going to get really awkward by the next morning.

Shit.

“Clarke, if you could…?” Anya said. “Hi, Abby. Hi, Marcus. Good to see you.”

“Hi,” Abby said. “And you look beautiful, too. Where’s Raven?”

“She’s helping Niylah.” Anya motioned toward the wine table. “She’d love to see you. In the meantime, the artist is needed.”

“Go on, honey,” Abby said. “We’ll see you in a bit.”

Clarke nodded and gave Lexa an apologetic look, but Lexa only grinned and waved her off.

“Go,” she said. “Sell more art.”

Clarke let Anya guide her to a potential buyer who became an actual buyer ten minutes later. Then she chatted up several more people, including people from Polis crew, and God, was it obvious how much she kept looking at Lexa? She directed her attention to Rosie, from the gallery next door, who was commenting on the piece Lexa had been admiring the day before. Then she spent a few minutes talking with Patty, who delivered her mail, and her art-interested daughter. After getting both to agree to come by after the new year to talk about potential drawing lessons, Rosie then accosted her again.

“I love this,” Rosie said, pointing at the painting of the tower.

“Thanks. I like it, too.”

Raven surreptitiously took Clarke’s empty water bottle from her and Clarke mouthed a thank you then glanced past her to where Lexa was talking with Abby and Kane and at that moment, Lexa looked up and busted her.

Clarke’s breath caught in her throat at the expression in Lexa’s eyes, and then her damn smile—she smiled back and snapped her attention back to Rosie.

“—the shades of green are amazing. What was the inspiration for this?”

Clarke stared at the painting for a while. “Just…an idea I had. It feels almost familiar, like I’ve been there before.”

Rosie nodded. “Art. It’s the best.”

She chuckled. “Yeah. It really is.” And then she noticed the “sold” sticker on the name tag. Anya hadn’t mentioned that this one had sold. She was disappointed, that she hadn’t met the person or people who had bought it, and it was probably weird, but she liked to get a sense of the people who chose each of her pieces.

And then a couple other people wanted to talk with her, and it was already almost eight, when the show was supposed to close but clearly, things were going to go a little longer.

Which was totally fine. Some people were last-minute buyers.

By 8:30, most of Polis crew had left, and most of the other attendees had, too, though about ten remained, chatting with her, and finally they wandered out, though one did buy one of her smaller works before he left.

Clarke immediately put the “closed” sign up though she didn’t lock up.

“Awesome,” Raven said. “You sold everything but three.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yep.” Anya held up her tablet. “I’ve got the info here. And I’m emailing this spreadsheet to you now.”

“Can I just hire you permanently?”

Anya smirked. “I think we’d probably drive each other nuts, but I’m more than happy to help you out at things like this.”

“Well, I want to know who the assholes were who didn’t buy those other three paintings,” Lincoln said and Octavia smacked him lightly on the arm, but she was laughing.

“Congrats, Clarke,” Kane said. “I’d say this was a successful show.”

“Seconded,” Lexa said. “And I’m really glad I got to be here.”

“So am I.” Abby was practically beaming,

“Okay, let’s de-decorate,” Octavia announced and suddenly, she, Anya, Niylah, Octavia, and Lincoln were in motion, and it was like they had choreographed everything. Lexa ended up helping Niylah, which left Kane and Abby alone with Clarke.

“I’m going to help clean up,” he said, after exchanging a look with Abby, and he disappeared into the back. Clarke shot a look at Lexa, but her back was turned to her as she helped put glasses onto one of the pushcarts.

Clarke smiled at Abby. “Thanks again, Mom. I’m really glad you came.”

“I said earlier that this is important to you, but I realized that it’s also really important to me, because this is part of who you are, and I love how happy you are doing it.”

“I am pretty happy.”

“And it shows.” She glanced around the gallery. “Your dad would be so proud of you.”

Clarke fought the tears welling in her eyes. “I hope so.”

“Oh, he would. He loved everything you created and just wanted you to be happy, whatever it was you did. I’m sorry that I tried to force you into a box I thought was best for you.”

“It did suck for a while.” She squeezed Abby’s hand. “But we got past it and here we are.”

“And I’m so amazed at the woman you are. Every day.”

“I get a lot of it from you.” And Clarke gave her another hug. “Love you, Mom. And now I have to go make sure they’re not breaking things.”

Abby laughed. “Do you need me and Marcus to stay and help?”

“No, we’ve got this. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget Lexa.”

How the fuck would she _ever_ forget Lexa? “I won’t.”

“Also, I invited Raven and Anya, too.”

Hold up. She stared at her. The awkward factor just increased by a million. “Okay. So we’ll all meet at the Terrace at nine.”

Abby gave her a weird look, like she wanted to press the issue, but Clarke derailed it. “So go get Marcus and I’ll let you out the front. Let me know if anything changes.”

She nodded, but she still had that expression. Fortunately, Niylah walked by with the cart, now empty, and Clarke used the opportunity to ask if she could help. A few moments later, Abby and Kane were ready to leave and they collected their coats from the wheeled rack near the entrance to the storage area and Clarke walked them to the front door.

“Thanks again, both of you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” After they left, she locked the door behind them to prevent interruptions and went to help Niylah clean up the empty wine bottles.

“Do we have any left?” Clarke asked.

“Half a bottle of white.” Niylah held it up. “No red, but Octavia didn’t get as much of that.” She put a cork into the half-full bottle. “So,” she said, “how are things going with your secret Santa?”

“Can we not talk about this?” Clarke put a couple of stray glasses on the cart. “Unless you’re going to tell me everything because right now, shit is kind of confusing.”

“I—”

“Clarke, do you want the display panels taken down?” Lincoln said from the doorway to the storage area.

“Yes. I’ll help.”

“Cool.”

It went fast with Lincoln helping, and it was something to keep her busy for a few minutes and not thinking about Lexa or Secret Santa or whatever the fuck might be going on.

Lincoln carried the panels to the back while Clarke gathered up the floor lights. Anya helped, and by the time everything was pretty much back to normal, it was nearly ten.

“Thank you so much, all of you,” Clarke said as Lincoln closed the back of his camper shell on his truck. She was holding the back entrance open and her breath made small clouds in the night air.

“No problem. This was a cool event.” Octavia gave her a hug. “And now go home and get some sleep.”

“Yeah. I think I might.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow, maybe.” She waved and got into the truck. Lincoln went to the driver’s side.

“’Night, Clarke. That was really freaking cool.”

“Good night.” She waved back and then closed the door and made sure it was locked. “Everybody good?”

“We’ll see you at home, dear,” Raven said. “Or do you want a ride?”

“No, I’ll walk.”

“Um,” Raven said, looking at her skeptically.

“I brought clothes.”

“You sure? We’re right out front,” Anya said.

“Yeah. It’s an artist thing. Down time.” She smiled. “Thank you so fucking much. I’ll see you at the house.” She went to the front door, where Lexa and Niylah were chatting.

“You both good with rides?” Anya asked.

“I’m across the street,” Niylah said.

Anya looked at Lexa.

“I’m good. Just around the corner.”

“Then I guess we’re all good.” Anya buttoned her coat. “Clarke, if you change your mind, call.”

“I’m good. Really. Thanks.”

Niylah looked at her, but didn’t say anything. She left first, then Anya and Raven, leaving her alone with Lexa. Which normally was a really good thing but right now, it felt kind of weird. Lexa zipped her coat up.

“You sure you don’t want a ride?” she asked, concern in her eyes and Clarke really wanted to just hug her and hold on to her and forget about everything remotely Secret Santa-related because it was stressing her out.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Really.”

And then Lexa took her hand. “Call or text if that changes.”

She nodded, unable to say anything at first because Lexa was holding her hand and it felt much different than in the past. She should tell her. She should just fucking tell her.

“Lexa—”

“Hey,” Anya said as she opened the door and Lexa released Clarke’s hand. “Raven forgot her phone.” If she noticed anything, she didn’t comment. She disappeared into the back then emerged a few seconds later. “Got it.” She held it up, gave Lexa a cryptic look, and went outside.

“I’ll see you soon,” Lexa said, and she stepped outside, too, though she held Clarke’s gaze, then walked away with Anya.

Clarke sighed and locked the door. She wanted to change into her street clothes and—Niylah had left the half-bottle of wine on the counter next to the cash register. And she’d have a glass of wine. In fact, she’d pour herself one right now, even though all she had was an empty ceramic coffee cup. Whatever. It still tasted like wine. She sipped and surveyed the gallery, thoughts a muddle of elation over the show, and hope and confusion over Lexa.

One thing she did know. She needed to just fucking tell her how she felt. This card shit was too damn stressful.

She finished her cup of wine and went to change into jeans and boots so she could walk a bit and clear her head.

###

“I’m going with Lexa to her car,” Anya said to Raven, who sat in Anya’s car, which was running. Raven had rolled the window down halfway. “Stay here where it’s warm.”

“Damn right I will. Later, Lexa.” She air-kissed her and rolled the window up.

“So…Clarke?” Anya said as she and Lexa walked to Lexa’s car down the block.

She hesitated before she answered. “Things are both amazing and stressful.”

“Wait. What? Did something happen? I thought you weren’t doing the reveal until—shit, in about forty-five minutes.”

“I’m still planning on that, but she somehow got a card into my coat.”

They stopped near Lexa’s car. “And?”

“She wants to be more than friends and she asked me out.” She said it in a rush, and a wave of heat raced through her at the memory.

Anya stared at her. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” She took her phone out and showed her the photo of the completed puzzle card.

“Did she—” Anya enlarged the photo. “Did she do a painting and then make it a fucking _puzzle_?”

Lexa took the phone back. “Yeah.”

“Oh, my God. You two are fucking perfect for each other. Did you tell her yes?”

“No.”

Anya gave her a “what the fuck” look.

“I had to go to DC this morning and I didn’t want to do it by text or phone. This is something you do in person.”

“Lexa…” Anya shook her head. “Clarke is probably thinking that you didn’t get the card because you haven’t said anything.”

Oh, shit. Lexa’s stomach lurched. “Fuck.”

“Or she’s thinking that you _did_ get it but that you’re not even going to address it because you’re freaked out.” She handed the phone back. “Jesus, for someone as smart as you are, matters of the heart are kind of your blind spot.”

She groaned. “I just—shit. I really wanted to just tell her in person, but she was busy all day with the show. Fuck. Do you think I fucked it all up?”

“No. Just go back there and tell her. Screw the big reveal. This is too important.”

“Uh…”

“I’ll go first. Give me a minute to drive away. Then go back.”

She nodded. “Okay. Yeah.”

Anya chuckled. “Jesus. It’s Clarke. You’ve known each other for years. You can talk about anything.”

“Except maybe this.”

“Yeah, well, this is a little different. I get it. But she wants more. So do you. So fucking go get it.” She squeezed Lexa’s shoulders. “I’m outta here. Go talk to her, champ.” And she strode away. Lexa stood, waiting, feet really cold in her heels, and damn, the dress wasn’t doing much in terms of warmth, either. Plus, it was starting to snow. Finally, after what seemed a reasonable amount of time for Anya to drive away, she went back around the corner and walked the half-block to the gallery.

Shit. The lights were already off in the front, but there was one on in the back. Was that for security? She knocked on the door.

No Clarke.

She knocked again.

Still no Clarke.

Fuck. She called her.

No answer. Shit. Was she not taking her calls, now? Was she really upset?

Lexa hurried back to her car and within a minute was back at her Air bnb. She practically ran up the stairs to the entrance—quite a feat in heels—and changed into street clothes. She had twenty minutes to get to the gazebo and if Clarke didn’t show up…well, then she’d do whatever it took to find her and tell her exactly how she felt about her.

###

Clarke emerged from the bathroom and put her coat and hat on. She had already turned the lights out in the front and left a light on in the back, so she decided to go out the back tonight. Her bag was in the back closet tonight, and she left it there, but got her billfold out and she was about to leave when she remembered her phone was on one of the shelves near the entrance into the front room.

Good thing the alarm gave her a full minute before it armed. She got her phone, shoved it into her coat pocket, went out the back and pushed the door shut, making sure it locked before she put her gloves on. And then she stood, thinking.

Gazebo park was about six blocks away, in the opposite direction from her house, which was about five blocks. Lexa hadn’t given her any indication that she’d gotten her card today, so if it was Lexa who wanted her to show up at the gazebo, then everything was good anyway, right?

But how could Lexa not have gotten the card? She had worn her coat tonight, and it seemed pretty weird that she wouldn’t notice something in the pocket. So operating under _that_ assumption, that she had found the card and was too freaked out to say anything—wait. Maybe she didn’t want to say anything because she hadn’t wanted to ruin the show. Maybe Lexa wasn’t into her that way, but she didn’t want to say that because she knew it would fuck up show night and she still cared enough about her to do that for her, and she’d let her down easy later.

Which meant that Lexa was not behind the cards to her.

So who the hell was?

And did she want to find out?

Yes and no. Morbid curiosity, maybe. Or, better plan, she could go to the pub and have a drink then go home.

She started walking but halfway to the pub, she turned left, toward the park, which, if she thought about it, wasn’t actually much of a park. It was more kind of a plaza with a few grassy spots and benches, and a small gazebo right in the center that lots of people used for photo ops. Or maybe romantic meetings. Or gentle let-downs. Shit.

Why was she even doing this? She stopped about two blocks away and took her phone out. Fuck it. She’d text Niylah and find out who had sent the cards. And what the hell? Lexa had called? How had she missed that?

Clarke pulled her glove off and entered her password to check her call log. Almost a half-hour ago. And why didn’t she leave a message? Heart pounding, she called back. It rang four times and went to voicemail. Shit. Was something wrong? Had something happened? She started walking back toward the main street and Lexa’s Air bnb, worried.

“Clarke!”

She turned at Lexa’s shout, confused but relieved, and saw her about a half-block away, running toward her from the direction of the park. No way was she just going to stand there and wait, so she started toward her.

Lexa slowed down a few yards away. “Hey,” she said, sounding a little out of breath, and then she was within arm’s reach, and snow dusted the knit cap and scarf she wore. “It’s almost eleven. Where are you going?”

“I saw that you called and I called you back but you didn’t answer. I got worried—” and then she stopped, as what Lexa had just said registered. “Eleven…oh, my God. It _was_ you.” She stared at her. “The cards.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “And I’m so sorry. I should’ve said something earlier today, but I wanted to tell you in person—”

Her whole chest seemed to clamp around her lungs. “Tell me what?”

Lexa smiled, and hope and something much deeper was in her eyes. “Tell you yes. Yes, Clarke. I want to be more than friends and yes, I’ll have dinner with you. And lunch. Breakfast. Brunch. Snacks. Whatever. Yes.”

“You got my card.” Everything was suddenly amazing and maybe a little overwhelming and Clarke wasn’t sure what to do with it all.

“This morning. And then I was late to a meeting and—fuck, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you yes in person, but I should have texted or called—”

Clarke smiled and put her fingers against Lexa’s lips, and it should have been weird, but it was the most natural thing in the world to do. “It’s all good, because you’re here now.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, and then Lexa gently took Clarke’s hand and kissed her fingertips and Clarke swore she was melting.

“I’ve been wanting to say something for so long,” Lexa said, still holding Clarke’s hand. “And now here I am and I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing.”

“Same. But I’m pretty sure we’ll figure it out.”

Lexa smiled in that sweet sexy way she had and oh, God Clarke wanted to kiss her. “Yeah.” She held Clarke’s gaze, but a shadow lurked in her expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“My world has totally realigned in the space of a few minutes and I honestly have no idea what to do next.”

Clarke squeezed her hand. “Lexa, it’s me. We’ve had a years-long getting-to-know-you session.”

“But as friends.”

“You sure about that?” she teased. Because there were many, many times that she had thought of Lexa as much more than that, though it went unexpressed.

She smiled, sheepish. “Um. Okay, yeah. I’m actually _not_ sure about that.” She shrugged. “I might’ve fooled myself a few times.”

“Just a few?”

“Maybe a few more than a few.”

God, her smile. How had she managed not to tell Lexa earlier how she felt?

“So,” Lexa said. “I guess—seriously, I don’t know what I’m doing here. I spent a lot of time imagining telling you how I felt, but I didn’t really think about what that would look like if you were into it, too. I think I was kind of afraid to hope and I didn’t want to lose you as a friend if you felt differently.” She shook her head “That thought was too horrible, that telling you would drive you away.”

“I worried about the same thing. But it got to be harder not to tell you than to tell you.”

“It’s been kind of making me crazy, not telling you,” Lexa said.

“Same.”

“I mean, I care about you and I would never willingly do anything to hurt you, so even if I wasn’t into you like I am, and you told me you wanted more than friendship from me, I sure as hell wouldn’t run away. It would be weird for a while, I guess, but I think we’d be okay eventually.”

Clarke smiled. “Wait. So…you’re into me?”

Lexa rolled her eyes but she was smiling. “That great speech and that’s what you came away with?”

“And? What’s the problem?”

She kissed Clarke’s fingers again. “None, actually. And yes. I am _way_ into you.”

“It’s mutual.” And they stared at each other again and it was like the world held its breath, and Clarke saw in Lexa’s eyes exactly what she knew was in her own. “So, I know that this new perspective between us is only a few minutes old, but I’ve had these feelings way longer than that.” She paused and traced the line of Lexa’s jaw with her fingertips. “And I really need you to kiss me.”

She smirked in that half-sultry, half-sweet way she had. “You sure?” she said softly, the expression in her eyes making Clarke want to do a whole lot more than just that.

“Just kiss me already, Woods,” Clarke said, wondering why the heat flowing through her body right now wasn’t melting the snow.

Lexa’s smirk widened into a smile and she leaned in—and oh, God, her lips were so soft and Jesus, the way she moved her mouth, and every part of Clarke lit up like fireworks. She slid her arms around Lexa’s neck and honestly, nothing had prepared her for how good it felt to finally do this.

They stopped at the same time, both of them breathing a little heavily and Lexa rested her forehead against Clarke’s and pulled her closer and they stood for a while and Clarke was pretty sure this was the most perfect night ever.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that for the longest time,” Lexa finally said but she didn’t pull away and her words were warm puffs against Clarke’s lips.

“Me, too. Why didn’t we think of this earlier?”

“Because we’re idiots?”

Clarke laughed softly. “But we had such great plans in motion.”

Lexa pulled back so she could look at her. “Speaking of. Secret Santa. It seems we both had the same idea about the same time.”

“Yeah. Except—the Texas postmark on the first card threw me a little.”

“Anya. She mailed it for me on her last business trip.”

“So Anya has been in on this the whole time?”

She shrugged, still smiling. “And Niylah and Tristan.”

“I figured _that_ out.”

“And Harper might have guessed.”

“Seriously?”

“She asked me a month ago if I was finally going to tell you how I felt. She said it was a perfect time.”

Clarke chuckled. “Sounds like what Octavia and Raven have been saying. They’ve been pressuring me since Thanksgiving to talk to you. Did they know about your cards?”

“I don’t think so. Anya’s good at stealth ops.”

“So are you, apparently. Did you use an actual typewriter?"

Lexa grinned. "Yes. One of my coworkers has it in his office as a conversation piece, but the damn thing works. So I thought it was a bit...I don't know. Warmer, maybe? And I obviously couldn't hand write anything because you'd know it was me." She held her gaze. "I should have just fucking told you."

"But then we wouldn't be standing out here having this incredibly romantic moment."

"True. And I am kind of a sucker for romance."

She laughed. "You're a _total_ sucker for it." And everything in Lexa's eyes was everything she herself was feeling. "So am I."

"I knew that about you."

"Yeah. You did." And then Clarke kissed her again because how could she not? After all this time, how could she not? And she didn’t care that they were standing on a sidewalk under a street light and that the snow had started to pick up. Everything was perfect, and she relaxed into the moment, because something had finally clicked into place and this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

She pulled away after a few more completely amazing minutes and cupped Lexa’s cheek. “I really want to—God, I want to talk to you and be around you and—” she stopped, searching for words. “I’ve known you for so long, but not like this, and, like you, I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing right now, either. I mean, you’re a friend, even though I’ve wanted more. And now I’m trying to re-draw the lines between us and I feel like I might be making assumptions.”

“Hey.” Lexa cupped Clarke’s cheek as well and her palm was warm against her skin. “We’re in this together. I’ve wanted to see where we could go for years, and yeah, it’s new and different, but maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s not about re-drawing lines, but rather recognizing where they’ve been the whole time.”

Clarke’s throat tightened and she fought an urge to cry with both relief and happiness as Lexa’s words sank in and holy shit, this was real, they were here together, and it was all blowing her mind.

“And we don’t have to figure everything out right now. Hell, we don’t have to figure _anything_ out right now. Okay?”

She nodded and leaned into Lexa’s hand. And it hit her that Lexa hadn’t been wearing gloves this whole time. “Oh, my God, your hands.” She glanced down at their feet. Lexa was wearing sneakers. “And Jesus, your feet.”

“Easier to run in these than boots.” She grinned.

“You have a rental car.”

“I just—the drama of it all. I forgot to use it.”

Clarke laughed and gave her another quick kiss. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to Kristen’s. It’s cold out here.” She entwined her fingers with Lexa’s as they started walking and then put her hand in her coat pocket so Lexa’s was in there, too.

She suddenly stopped.

“What?” Lexa looked at her, puzzled.

“We didn’t go to the gazebo.”

She waited.

“We should. It’ll finish out the Secret Santa saga.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Clarke looked at Lexa’s shoes again. “But I don’t want you to freeze out here.”

“I’m fine. Let’s do this. We have to make Christmas our bitch, after all.”

“Hell, yes.” They walked back toward the park and when they arrived, the gazebo seemed to be waiting for them, the white and red lights city workers had strung from its eves serving as a beacon of sorts. It was only a few dozen yards from where they entered the park, and a few seconds later they had taken the few steps up into its open-air interior. At least its roof offered some protection from the snow.

“It’s so pretty out here,” Clarke said softly. “Even though tomorrow this is going to suck to get around in.”

Lexa softly cleared her throat. “So, Clarke—”

She looked at her.

“I’ve been wanting to say this for a long time, so here it is. I would like very much to be more than your friend. And if you don’t feel that way, that’s okay, I’ll still be your friend and you don’t need to freak out because I’m not going to get weird around you. I just really needed to tell you.”

Clarke smiled. “Was that what you were going to say?”

“Pretty much. I’m hoping it sounded better than I think it did.”

“It’s perfect.” Clarke pulled her into a hug and God, even with all the layers between them, it was new, exciting, but also familiar, pressed against her like this and she smelled faintly of citrus and something earthy, like sandalwood. “Also, yes,” she said softly, lips near Lexa’s ear. “I want to be so much more than friends.”

Lexa hugged her even closer. “That is the best news.”

“It is. Completely. But now, I really want to make sure you get back to Kristen’s okay.” She took her hand again and they left the park, and Clarke was glad, because the snow was sticking now to the sidewalk. Tomorrow was definitely going to be messy if this kept up.

“About your schedule—” Clarke started but then her phone rang and she sighed. “That’s Raven.”

“Uh-oh. You’re out past curfew.”

She laughed and fished her phone out of her other pocket and answered.

“Oh, my God, Clarke. Where the fuck are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Lexa squeezed her other hand, a warm, affectionate kind of gesture and God, she was melting again.

“What the hell? Octavia said you’re not at the pub. Are you still at the gallery? It’s snowing. Do you want Anya to come and get you?”

“Raven, I’m fine. And no, I’m not at the gallery.”

Pause. “Are you—” she lowered her voice. “Oh, my God, are you with someone? Did you get lucky?”

Raven had no idea how lucky she got. “I’m with Lexa. We’re walking to Kristen’s and then I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Wait. Lexa?”

In the background, Clarke heard Anya saying something.

“What?” Raven practically shouted and Clarke held the phone away from her ear.

Lexa laughed. “Guess Raven knows, now.”

“Seems that way.” She heard Anya telling her to calm down.

“Are you okay with that?” Lexa asked.

She looked at her. “More than okay. Are you?”

“Totally. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable as we…um…”

“Shift gears?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Clarke smiled and leaned into her as they walked, and it made her feel so safe, having her close like this. It always had, but now she could act on it.

“Clarke,” Raven finally said, “what is going on?”

“What did Anya tell you?”

“That you and Lexa needed to tell each other something and oh, my God, did you?”

Lexa must have heard her because she laughed.

“Yes.” Clarke kept smiling.

“Oh, my God—”

“Hey, Griff,” Anya said. She had apparently taken the phone from Raven, who Clarke heard whooping in the background. “Do you need me to come and get you both?”

“No, we’re not far from Kristen’s and then I’ll head home.”

“Sounds good. Everything okay?”

“So much more amazing than that.”

“Good to hear. See you in a bit.”

“Okay. Bye.” She put her phone back in her pocket, appreciating Anya’s ability to be unfazed about almost everything. “So, pretty sure Polis crew is going to get a group text tonight.”

“Do you think it’ll include us?” She smirked and Clarke wanted to kiss her again. And again after that. And shit, she wanted to do a lot more than that.

“Doubtful.”

“Too bad. I kind of like knowing what we’re up to.”

She laughed and gripped Lexa’s hand a little tighter, like she was afraid she’d slip away somehow, or that she’d wake up and this would only be a dream.

Lexa squeezed her hand in return, and that and her smile made everything all right and real.

“So did you seriously run all the way to the park from Kristen’s?”

“Yes.” She looked at her. “This was too important not to.”

“There are these things called phones,” she teased. “And you know where I live and where I work.”

“Somehow, it was just really important to find you tonight. In person.”

“I’m glad you did. And I was on my way to the park, but I did get worried that you had called and didn’t leave a message and then you didn’t answer when I called back.”

Lexa leaned into her. “That whole running thing. Didn’t want to stop. Thanks for worrying, but I hate that you did.”

“Kind of hard not to over the years. I just didn’t feel I could really tell you how much I worried sometimes because then you’d wonder why I cared so much.”

She stopped, and her expression was so full of understanding and gentleness that Clarke wanted to cry again. “I get it,” she said. “I felt the same way. And I wouldn’t have wondered. I would have hoped there was more behind it.”

“There was,” Clarke said softly. “I think maybe there always was.”

She smiled. “It only took us a few years to stop denying it.” She gently kissed Clarke’s forehead and God, she was melting again.

Lexa started walking again and Clarke wondered at the strange sensation she had—everything between them was new and exciting but somehow familiar and safe and it was a little disconcerting but also really comfortable. And dammit, they were at the driveway that led to the carriage house. Clarke took both of Lexa’s hands in hers and snow clung to her knit cap and God, how could anyone be both so cute and so hot?

“Okay if I come by and pick you up for breakfast with my mom and all her minions?” Clarke asked.

“Perfect.”

“Do you have to go to DC tomorrow?”

“Nope. I checked. Nobody scheduled any more damn meetings.”

She grinned. “Then maybe…dinner?”

The smile Lexa gave her made her ache, and it was a little surprising, that she was responding so quickly to these new circumstances between them.

“Yes,” Lexa said. “Just tell me when and where.”

And Clarke kissed her and oh, God, she wanted so much more and God, Lexa deepened the kiss and she lost coherent thought for a minute.

“This is not making me want to leave,” Clarke said, lips against Lexa’s.

“Sorry. I just—damn. Kissing you is so much more incredible than I had imagined, and I have a pretty good imagination.”

She smirked. “I was just thinking that about you.”

Lexa cupped her face and kissed her forehead. “And just so we’re clear, I don’t expect anything you’re—we’re—not ready for.”

“I know. Same.” She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled away before she got carried away. “See you tomorrow morning.”

Lexa smiled, squeezed her hand, and walked to the stairs of the carriage house. She opened the door then waved and Clarke waved back and when the door closed, Clarke watched for a few moments, wondering if this was a dream.

But Lexa’s kisses still lingered on her lips, and the expression in her eyes when she told Clarke yes—that was seared onto her heart. Everything was fucking amazing. And then she walked home, everything tingling.

###

Lexa flopped onto the bed and read Clarke’s text again. Or rather, for about the fortieth time.

_made it home. [smile emoji] still floating. see u tomorrow_

She bit her lip and stared at the ceiling. Holy shit, she had kissed Clarke. Finally. After all this time. And it was mind-blowing and exciting and sexy and sweet and fuck, she hadn’t counted on just how incredible this was going to be.

Her phone rang with Anya’s tone, startling her.

“Hey,” she answered.

“All good?”

“It’s fucking unbelievable.”

She laughed. “So I gathered from Clarke’s end. Raven is losing her shit and Clarke won’t stop smiling. Just thought you should know.”

“I’m having the same problem.”

“It’s not a problem. It’s about fucking time. Really happy for you both. Also, just giving you a heads-up that by tomorrow the entirety of Polis may know.”

“Yeah, we figured.” She grinned. “Don’t care.”

“I didn’t think so. All right, see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, hey—”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, Anya. For everything.”

“You’re welcome. Get some sleep. Bye.”

Lexa hung up and got under the covers, wishing Clarke was near, as she had so many nights in the past. Maybe soon. But if not, that was okay, too, because they were on this journey together, and Lexa would take whatever kind of time she could get with her. She turned out the light and drifted to sleep, still smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLEXA'S IN THE HOUSE!!!!
> 
> brb got something in my eye...


	8. Clexa Has Left the Dock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa go to breakfast with Abby, Marcus, and Raven and Anya. Later, Clarke tells Octavia about the new developments...the news is getting out...

Lexa stood in the driveway, surprised that she had no morning texts yet from anyone except Clarke (which was, of course, the best text). And damn, she could _not_ stop thinking about her or about what had happened the night before. She had a perpetual case of sparks as a result.

She put her phone into her coat pocket and inhaled deeply, enjoying the crisp, clear air. Three inches of fresh snow blanketed the city, but the sun was out, so some of it might melt before the day’s end. Right now, it was really pretty and it seemed everything was kind of quiet and mellow, even this close to Christmas.

Clarke pulled up and she smiled at Lexa through the window (God, she was beautiful) and Lexa’s heartbeat sped up as she got in. Clarke was wearing a brown bomber jacket and her hair was loosely tied back, exposing the planes of her face and Lexa lost herself for a few seconds in her eyes.

“Hi,” Clarke said and she leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Lexa’s cheek before she got settled and even _that_ sent her over the moon.

“Hi back,” Lexa said, staring at her and Clarke smiled and waited for her to buckle up. She did and Clarke put the car in gear then took Lexa’s hand.

“How are you?” Clarke asked.

“Amazing. But I don’t think that word adequately captures it, actually. And you? Everything okay? I mean, I know this might still be kind of weird and new and figuring out parameters will take some time—”

“Lexa.” Clarke gently squeezed her hand. “It’s not weird at all. It’s just new.” She lifted their joined hands to her lips and kissed the back of Lexa’s. “And I’m fantastic.”

“I’ve known _that_ for years,” Lexa said, smiling.

She laughed. “Anyway, Raven is extremely happy about this turn of events, but for reasons I can’t fathom, she isn’t telling anyone.”

“What? Is she okay?”

“Right? She said it’s up to us to let people know if we want.”

“She didn’t even tell Octavia?”

“Apparently not.” Clarke was then quiet for a bit as she drove toward the southern edge of the historic district, but it was a comfortable silence and Lexa reveled in the fact that she was sitting in Clarke’s car holding her hand.

“We don’t have to mention anything to your mom, either, if you don’t want to.”

Clarke threw her a glance, surprised. “I have no issue telling my mom. If it comes up at breakfast, it comes up. If it doesn’t, I’ll let her know another time. I doubt she’ll be surprised.”

Lexa sighed. “I just realized how high school that exchange between us was.”

Clarke shot her another glance and then they both laughed. “Oh, my God, don’t tell your mom,” Clarke said in an exaggerated Valley Girl accent.

“Oh, my God, I know, right?” Lexa shot back in a similar accent which only made Clarke laugh harder.

“Stop. I’m trying to drive.” She pulled her hand out of Lexa’s and wiped her eyes. Lexa missed her touch immediately but Clarke just as quickly took her hand again and all was right with the world.

“And since we’re on the topic, same approach with Indra and Gustus.”

“On the plus side, neither of us has to worry about meeting each other’s family.” She flashed her a smile. “I mean, if we decide we want to…um…” she trailed off.

“Continue along these lines?”

Clarke tightened her grip on Lexa’s hand. “Yes. Which I’m interested in doing.”

“Same, but we don’t have to think about that right now. How about we just take this one day at a time?”

“Okay.” She pulled into the parking lot of the Terrace and found a slot toward the back of the building. She turned the car off but didn’t let go of Lexa’s hand and Lexa waited, looking at her.

“You’re staring,” Clarke said, with one of her smirks.

“Totally.”

Her smirk softened into another one of her smiles, and Lexa really, really loved that it was directed at her. Clarke leaned in, over the divider, and kissed her, soft, warm, and lingering.

“I like it when you stare,” she said as she pulled away. “I always have.” She opened her door. “Ready?”

Lexa nodded and got out, too, and when Clarke took her hand again in the parking lot as they walked, it was like a warm current went up her arm and spread slowly throughout her body.

“Is this okay?” Clarke asked, squeezing her hand with the question. “We’re kind of in the open, here.”

“Oh, hell, yes. I’ve waited a long time to hold your hand. Don’t stop.”

Clarke grinned. “I’m kind of liking how much of a romantic you really are.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Takes one to know one.” She opened the door with her free hand and Clarke gave her other hand another squeeze just before she let go and went inside, where they were greeted with the smell of hashbrowns and waffles. The place was an institution in the area, and its name totally belied its appearance, which was kind of a cross between a diner and a roadhouse. But they served awesome breakfasts.

“Hey, Clarke,” the host said. “Your mom’s already got a table.” He pointed toward the back corner, where Lexa saw Abby and Kane.

“Thanks.” She caught Lexa’s eye, smiled, and started walking and Lexa liked that she had worn a bomber jacket, because it didn’t cover her ass, which looked really good in her jeans—she looked away, thinking that was a little too lecherous, especially when they were about to have breakfast with Clarke’s mom. But she also looked really fucking good in those boots. Jesus, Clarke was just fucking hot all around.

“Hi,” Abby said and she stood and gave Clarke a hug and then Lexa. Kane stood, too, and gave them each hugs.

“Good morning,” Clarke said and she took her coat off and took the end of the table, to Kane’s left.

“Sit right there, Lexa.” Abby directed her to the chair to Clarke’s left, across from Kane.

Lexa took her coat and scarf off and draped them over the back of her chair. She sat down and oh, how convenient that her leg brushed Clarke’s under the table.

“Plenty of coffee.” Abby pointed at the pitcher near Kane and Clarke handed him Lexa’s cup and then hers. He filled them and Clarke passed the cream to Lexa, her fingers brushing Lexa’s, something that would have given her a secret thrill before last night but now seemed to be imbued with extra meaning. She poured some into her cup and handed it back to Clarke.

“So Marcus and I were just talking about the show and how wonderful it was.”

“I’m really glad you could make it,” Clarke said, and Lexa was pretty sure it wasn’t an accident that Clarke’s knee was pressing against her thigh. “I’ll send you the links to the write-ups.”

“I’ve seen a lot of them, but yes, send me more.”

“Hey, hey,” came Raven’s voice and Abby and Kane got up and gave her and Anya hugs and then Raven took her coat off and sat down to Lexa’s left while Anya took the chair on the other side of Raven.

“Everybody good?” Raven asked.

“Um, you just saw me thirty minutes ago,” Clarke said as she handed the coffee pitcher to Lexa to pass along.

“A lot can happen in thirty minutes.” She gave Lexa a half-hug. “Hi, cuz-in-law. See what I did there?”

Clarke almost spit out her coffee while Anya groaned. Lexa laughed and looked over the menu, acutely aware of Clarke’s leg still against hers.

The server came by with another pitcher of coffee and Clarke poured more into Lexa’s cup then hers and Lexa passed it to Raven, who apparently didn’t catch the fact that Clarke ran her fingers lightly over the back of Lexa’s other hand and almost made her drop the pitcher.

Lexa raised an eyebrow at Clarke, who smiled at her over the rim of her cup.

The conversation moved from Clarke’s show to Anya and Raven’s work at the biomechanics foundation and by the time they were nearly done with their food, the conversation rolled around to Lexa.

“How goes it with you?” Kane asked her as he cut the last piece of his pancake.

“There’s no shortage of work. I’ve got a few cases that I’m dealing with right now that are bringing me to DC a little more.”

“Which we all love,” Raven said. “Not sure if Lexa loves it, though. Do you?”

“I always love seeing you,” Lexa said and she planted a big, wet kiss on Raven’s cheek.

“Eww. Seriously?”

Anya and Clarke laughed.

“Let me know when you’re in town,” Abby said. “I’ll see if I can get some time to grab lunch with you.”

“Sure. That’d be great.”

Clarke smirked behind the rim of her cup.

“And you can always crash with us,” Raven said. “We’ll invite Clarke, too, and have a slumber party.”

Anya gave Raven a look.

“Do you stay in Polis or DC when you’re in town?” Marcus asked Lexa, saving her from having to address the slumber party comment.

“Depends. I prefer Polis, but it’s easier, sometimes, to be in DC.”

“Well, whichever,” Raven said. “Us in DC, Clarke in Polis. Boom, done. Right, Clarke?”

“Definitely. Lexa’s always welcome.” She pressed her foot against the back of Lexa’s calf and dammit, yes, this was still kind of new between them but Lexa really wanted a lot more contact.

The server arrived with the check.

“If you have cash,” Marcus said, “I can put it on my card.”

“We can do that.” Anya took cash out to cover her and Raven while Lexa took enough out to cover her and Clarke, something the two of them had done numerous times in the past—cover each other at meals—but for some reason, it felt different, now. Like…a couple. And she kind of loved it.

“This has been great,” Abby said. “I’m so glad you were all able to join us.”

“Definitely,” Anya said. “And sorry, but we have to get back to DC and you probably do, too.”

“Yes, we do.”

“Do you need to go back to the house and pack up?” Clarke asked Raven as they all stood and started putting their coats on.

“No, we’re loaded up and ready to go. Thanks so much for letting us crash with you.”

“Any time.”

And as they all headed for the door, Clarke looped her arm through Lexa’s and leaned into her as they exited, only letting go when she went to hug Marcus and Abby.

Lexa looked over at Anya, sheepish, and Raven’s expression was basically deer in the headlights while Anya grinned. She was also pretty sure that Abby had noticed the body language, but whatever. She was going to find out eventually.

“Take care of yourself,” Abby said to Lexa and she hugged her again.

“You, too. Thanks for inviting me to breakfast.”

“Of course. Let me know the next time you’re in DC.”

“I will. Marcus, take it easy.”

“You, too.” He gave her a quick hug while Abby said goodbye to Anya and Raven and then he and Abby went to Abby’s car.

Nobody spoke for a few moments and then Raven broke the tableau.

“Um. So…is this—” she gestured at Lexa, then Clarke, “a thing?”

Anya groaned. “Babe, it’s not really your business. Let them be.”

Clarke laughed. “We’ll keep you posted.” She took Lexa’s hand again and fuck, every time she did that, Lexa was a giant pile of feels.

“Oh, my God.” Raven said, eyes wide. “Does your mom know?”

“She might now,” Anya said, deadpan. “And hello, what grade are you in?”

Both Clarke and Lexa laughed.

“We kind of had that discussion,” Clarke said. “Regardless, this is still really new, but it’s not secret.”

“But seriously.” Anya took Raven’s hand. “It’s their story to tell.”

Raven groaned. “I cannot believe it’s finally happened. The ship of ages. And you’re being so chill about it. I want a block party.”

Anya shook her head.

“That’s for later,” Clarke said, and she let go of Lexa’s hand and hugged Raven then Anya. “Love you guys. Thanks for all your help.”

“Polis crew rules,” Anya said.

“We need T-shirts,” Raven said as Lexa gave her a hug. “And I hope everything works out,” she said in a tone only for Lexa to hear.

“Me, too.”

“No worries. You’re meant for each other.”

“Hope so.” Lexa let go and went to give Anya a hug. “Thanks again. We’ll talk soon.”

“Cool.” She then lowered her voice, too. “And for the love of God, spend Christmas with Clarke.” Then she let go and she and Raven went to their car.

“I cannot believe that Raven hasn’t told anyone,” Lexa said as she watched them.

“Maybe we don’t give her enough credit.”

“She’ll text Octavia later today and ask if she’s talked to you or me recently. And when Octavia says no, what’s going on, she’ll say to contact one of us right away.”

Clarke grinned. “I’m not even going to dispute that.” She grabbed her hand again and they went to her car. “So what are your plans today?” she asked as she backed out.

“I have some work to do, but I don’t have to go anywhere to do it. Then dinner with you.”

“Excellent. I was thinking six.”

“I’m there. Where?”

Clarke pulled onto the street. “My house.” She glanced at her. “Is that okay?”

“It’s perfect. What should I bring?”

“I was thinking it would be fun to make pizzas. I have all the sauce and dough ingredients and a bunch of vegetables. But if you want to pick up some sausage or pepperoni or something, that would probably be good.”

“Done.”

“I just remembered that you said you were only here until the twenty-third. That’s tomorrow.”

“I said my schedule was flexible, though.”

“Define ‘flexible’.” Clarke glanced at her before she turned.

She didn’t respond, thinking about how best to respond.

“Lexa?”

“Remember at the pub when I told you that I had some things up in the air?”

“Yes. And you also asked me if there was anything I ever wanted to do but hadn’t.”

“Yeah. Well, I also said there was this thing I wanted to do but I was scared to do it and that a whole bunch of things were basically tied in together.”

Clarke pulled into the carriage house driveway. “Okay. I’m listening.”

Lexa took her hand. “That thing I wanted to do was tell you how I felt. And that’s why I said my plans were flexible, because if you said yes, then I could maybe stay a little longer if you wanted. If you said no, well…” she trailed off, because that was a really shitty thing to think about.

“So that’s why you weren’t sure about your Christmas plans?”

She nodded. “I don’t ever want to pressure you or make you feel obligated—” she had to stop talking because Clarke suddenly grabbed the front of her jacket with her other hand, pulled her in, and kissed her and this time, it was raw, maybe hungry, and Clarke’s tongue slid along Lexa’s bottom lip and fucking hell heat raced up and down her thighs.

“Damn,” Lexa said after Clarke pulled away. “What was that for?”

“You. And that thing I told you I finally did but I wasn’t sure what the results were? That was the card I made for you. I hadn’t had a chance to get it to you yet.”

She smiled. “Really?”

“Really.” And Clarke’s hand was on her cheek again, her thumb gently stroking. “So I’m asking you again. Will you spend Christmas with me?”

“Yes.”

“It’ll involve part of Christmas Day with my mom, as she said.”

“Perfect.”

“You know you can say no to that part and go hang out with Raven and Anya.”

“Why? I’ve known your mom almost as long as I’ve known you. And this isn’t the first Christmas I’ve spent with you and her.”

“It’s the first one as something more than a friend.”

“True. Are _you_ okay with me coming to your mom’s under these new circumstances? I totally get if you’re not ready for that.”

She leaned in and gently kissed her, lips a hair’s breadth from Lexa’s mouth, something both sexy and tender. “I really like these new circumstances.” She stopped, then, and looked at her. “And it just occurred to me that they’re not necessarily new circumstances. It’s just that we’re finally owning circumstances that already existed. So are you sure you’re good with going to my mom’s?”

“Absolutely.” She’d go pretty much anywhere with her.

“And you’re okay with me maybe displaying my affection for you in front of her?”

“So we’re to the PDA stage in front of your mom already?” she said with extra innocence.

Clarke gave her an absolutely sultry grin. “I feel like I’m trying to catch up with lost time.”

“Same. And I’m more than okay with it. Besides, I want her to hopefully see how much I care about you. I don’t want her to ever worry about that.” And shit, that sounded kind of like future talk.

Clarke smiled, and the warmth in her eyes went right to Lexa’s heart. “Where did you even come from?” she asked.

She kissed her, a slow reassurance. “I’ve been here all along.”

“I’m so glad.” And she kissed her again, this one soft and searching and Lexa responded in kind, and she had no idea how long they sat there in the car exploring each other’s lips, but it wasn’t enough.

“I have to go,” Clarke said softly, between kisses.

“I know.”

Neither of them made a move to actually stop.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for fucking years,” Clarke said before she kissed her again.

“Same.”

“And dammit, I really have to go. But I so don’t want to.”

“Okay. I’ll be the killjoy, then.” Lexa pulled away, but _God_ it was hard. “I’ll see you tonight.” And there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for another smile like the one Clarke had right now.

“Yeah. Looking forward to it.”

“Same.”

“Also, totally casual. As hot as you are in a cocktail dress, this is strictly a make pizza and hang out situation.”

“Okay. The dress for another occasion, then.” Lexa smirked then gave her another quick kiss and forced herself out of the car. Clarke motioned for her to go in and Lexa smiled because Clarke wanted to make sure she got in okay. She went up the stairs and opened the door and waved down at Clarke, who waved back and then backed out of the driveway.

Lexa went inside and holy shit, she was a goner.

Finally.

###

Clarke spent the afternoon thinking about Lexa and wrapping people’s purchases from the show and handing them out to the buyers who showed up. She loved doing this, because she loved it when her art found a home. Fortunately, she had other canvases ready for display, so she had those hung on the walls and on a couple of display panels she had brought out for the purpose.

And shit, she would have to check in with Anya regarding the sale of the big piece as “anonymous.” At least when that person came in, she’d see who they were. She hoped it wasn’t an asshole.

“Yo, Griff.”

She looked up as from the spreadsheet Anya had emailed her as Octavia came in. She was dressed for work at the pub, in black jeans, Doc Martens, and a tan sweater under her wool coat.

“Hi.” She came around the counter and gave her a hug. “Thank you _so much_ again for helping. I seriously don’t think it would have been as remotely successful as it was if you didn’t step in. I want to buy you, Raven, Anya, and Lincoln dinner.”

“How about you just have us over and make that chili?”

“Done. I’ll text everybody to get a date nailed down for next month.”

“Legit.” She looked around “Just wanted to make sure everything was okay. You good?”

“Totally. You? Busy over there?”

“Not really. That’ll start up tomorrow, because people will want to get buzzed before they have to deal with family.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” She leaned on the counter. “Holidays bring out the best and worst in people. And I know this is last minute, but you’re welcome to hang out with me and Lincoln. We’re having a Christmas Eve thing with Harper, Monty, Jasper, and Murphy.”

“I’m good. But why are Harper and Monty staying? She didn’t mention it.”

“Harper didn’t feel like going anywhere—she just saw her family at Thanksgiving—and Monty’s folks are going on a cruise.” She paused. “You going to your mom’s?”

“Christmas Day.”

“So you could still come and hang out Christmas Eve.”

“Maybe.” She thought about Lexa, and whether she’d like to do that or if maybe, just maybe, they could be alone.

Octavia cocked her head. “Are you doing a Netflix holiday by yourself?”

She smiled. “No.” And okay, she was enjoying this.

“Um…”

Clarke let that draw out for a while. Then, “Lexa’s going to stick around. I told her she’s not spending Christmas alone and I invited her to spend it with me.”

Octavia stared at her. “Okay, hold up. As in, ‘oh, bummer that you’re stuck in town, but hey, come and hang out with me and my mom’ or as in, ‘I like you as more than a friend and if you’re in town, I’d like to spend Christmas with you’?”

“It started as the former and now it’s pretty much the latter.” She tried to remain calm, but she was fighting a huge grin.

“Holy fucking shit.” Octavia blinked. “What—I can’t—fuck, I don’t even know where to start. What the hell is happening?”

“Do you need some smelling salts?”

“I just fucking might. Holy shit, Clarke. Holy. Shit.” She stopped talking because someone came in to pick up a painting, but as soon as he left, she started in again. “What the fuck. Oh, my God. What. Is. Happening.”

Clarke updated the ledger, smiling so wide it hurt. “I told Lexa how I felt. But she was also kind of telling me the same thing.”

Octavia frowned. “I’m kind of lost.”

“Both of us, for whatever reasons, decided that this Christmas, we were going to tell each other that we wanted to be more than friends. Neither of us had any idea that the other was thinking it, too. So Lexa did this thing with cards—” She gave Octavia a rundown of what had happened.

“Holy shit,” Octavia whispered.

“The first one came from Texas, so I was kind of thrown off, but Anya mailed it on her last business trip.”

“Anya was in on this?”

“And Niylah and Tristan, for obvious reasons. Harper kind of knew.”

“So wait. When did Lexa get the card you made for her?”

“The night of the dinner. She stopped by here and I put it in her coat when she wasn’t looking.”

“Nice stealth work.”

“She read it yesterday morning, but had to go to DC and wanted to tell me in person, but obviously, we didn’t have time to talk at the show. So we talked after. It was…kind of impromptu.” And then she knew she was blushing.

“Were you going to the gazebo to meet her?”

“Yeah. I mean, I really wanted it to be Lexa and my gut was telling me it was, but right before I got there, I saw that she had called earlier and didn’t leave a message so I called her back, but she didn’t answer and I got worried that something had happened or…something. I don’t know. I started to go back to Kristen’s, and that’s when she showed up. And we talked.” She blushed again, because _God_ , kissing her was everything.

“Uh-huh. Seems maybe a bit more than that went on.”

Clarke cleared her throat. “And we did go to the gazebo, by the way.”

“I’m—I still don’t even know what to say. Except the two of you are disgustingly romantic and it’s about fucking time this happened. Does Raven know?”

“Yes. Since last night.”

“What the hell? And she didn’t say anything about it?” She crossed her arms and pretended to pout.

“For once.” She smiled.

“I’m…shit, I’m floored. I’ve been hoping you two would eventually stop with the dumbassery and just admit you have feelings for each other and then you go off and do it and Raven doesn’t even tell me.”

“ _I’m_ telling you.”

Octavia came around the counter and hugged her. “And thank you. And I’m so happy for you.” She stepped back. “So…how’s it going?”

“It’s amazing. But also brand new. But not, because we’ve known each other for years. We’re figuring out how the new parameters work.”

“Uh-huh. Parameters.” She did air quotes with her fingers. “I’m betting it’ll be easy to get that all figured out,” she added with exaggerated emphasis.

“I’m serious, O. I’ve always felt a pull toward her, and sometimes it was stronger than others, but we always maintained certain boundaries. And now that we’re not, it’s—it’s the best thing ever, but it’s different and I feel like I’m sort of trying to meld Lexa the friend with Lexa the more-than-friend.”

“Those two aren’t mutually exclusive. That’s what makes you two such a great team. Because you already care about each other. My prediction? It’ll be much easier than you think for this to happen, and I speak from experience on that because Lincoln and I were friends for a couple of years before we became more than that.”

“It seemed really easy for you both. Was it?”

“Yeah.”

Clarke smiled because Octavia still had total heart eyes for him.

“I mean, I’d always wondered if we’d ever hit it off that way, since we worked pretty well as friends and I think he’s super hot in all kinds of ways…I just wasn’t sure what his deal was, since he was with someone when we first started hanging out. And then I was seeing someone for a while and then neither of us was, and that’s when we realized there was more between us.”

“I remember. You came over the next day and you were practically glowing. I was so happy for you. I still am. You guys are so good together.”

“And that’s exactly what I think about you and Lexa. You two are _so_ comfortable around each other, and you’ve had each other’s backs for years. This is just the logical evolution of your relationship.”

Relationship. That word could have a lot of baggage, but it didn’t feel like it when she thought about Lexa. After all, they basically _did_ have a years-long relationship that, if she was honest, was a charged friendship. But what, exactly, did she want _now_? She couldn’t imagine her life without Lexa, because she’d been part of it for years, but was she ready for something serious with her? Ready for her to play a bigger part in her life? And vice versa?”

“Clarke.”

“Huh?”

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“Stop freaking out. You just went into the ‘what if’ part of your brain to dissect ‘relationship’ and now you’re totally wondering what exactly you want out of this, which of course bogs you down and makes your wheels spin.”

Clarke groaned and leaned against the counter. “Get out of my head.”

“Can’t. We pretty much all share a brain, basically. Polis crew, after all.” She squeezed Clarke’s shoulder. “Would you just live in the moment, please? Lexa probably already told you that you don’t have to know everything right now—”

“Oh, my God, get out of her head, too.”

Octavia laughed. “Well, take her advice. You already took a leap of faith and look how awesome it turned out.”

Sparks filled her chest.

“So how did it feel last night, when she said yes, that she wanted to be more than friends, too?”

“Like…it was really exciting but also really calming. It was like it was just us and I was okay. And safe and everything felt…right.”

“There you go. So stop worrying and just enjoy what’s happening. You’re both going to be fine.”

Clarke hugged her again. “Thanks, O.”

“Any time. So when do you see each other again?”

“Tonight. We’re making dinner.” And the thought of Lexa in her house under these circumstances was causing all kinds of sensations down her spine and thighs, crowding out everything else.

“ _Making_ dinner?”

“Yeah. We’ve done it lots of times before,” she said, trying to sound casual. “At my house, even.”

“That was then, this is now.”

“Which is why it’s a date this time.”

“Oh, Griff.” Octavia shook her head but she was smiling.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m just really stoked for you. Can I tell Lincoln about these new developments?”

“Of course.”

“He’s going to be really stoked, too. He’s been Team Clexa since he met you and Lexa.”

She rolled her eyes. “I cannot with all of you and your shipping.”

“Whatever. You love it. And don’t worry, Lincoln and I won’t talk about this outside the few who already know. You and Lexa get to alert the media yourselves.”

“Jesus,” Clarke muttered, but she was chuckling, too.

“I’ve got to go. Let me know if you want to join in on Christmas Eve. Totally get it if you don’t.” She moved her eyebrows up and down, then went to the door.

“Hey, seriously, can I pay you for the food and the catering?” Clarke asked as Octavia had her hand on the door handle. “You never told me a price.”

“Because there isn’t one. Consider it Christmas magic.”

“O, I can’t do that. You worked your ass off. At least let me pay for the food in addition to cooking you a bunch of chili.”

“Tell you what. Do a painting for me and Lincoln. Something like that.” She gestured at the tower painting that had yet to be claimed. “We both really like that one.”

“I will totally love to do that.”

“Boom. Done.” She gave her a thumbs-up and left and Clarke stared at the tower painting. She really loved it and she wanted to know who had bought it. She texted Anya.

_hey—who bought the tower painting last nite? i need to know who to expect will come by to get it_

She left her phone on the counter and went into the back to get a more recent of her works ready to put out. As she was walking past the counter with the painting, her phone rang. Anya. She set the painting down and answered.

“Hey. I’m at the gallery. What’s the deal with the tower?”

“Forgot to tell you that the buyer will pick it up the morning of the twenty-third.”

“Okay, tomorrow. Great, but who is it?”

“Isn’t the name on the spreadsheet?”

“No. Which is why I texted.”

“Shit. Then it should be on the credit card receipt.”

“Which I don’t have. Where is it?”

“Damn, I’ll bet it’s mixed in with my stuff. I’m at the office right now, but when I go home I’ll check. It’s probably there. Don’t worry.”

“I won’t. I just like to know who buys my works.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. Screwed that up a bit. On the plus side, yay for all the sales?”

Clarke laughed. “Definitely. Talk to you later.”

“Definitely. Bye.”

She ended the call as someone else came in.

“Hi,” the man said. “I’m here to pick up a painting.” He held up the claim sheet Anya had given him the night before.

“Hi. Jeff Garrett, right? You bought ‘Otherworld’.”

He smiled, surprised. “Yes.”

“It’s right over here, wrapped up and ready to go. I like to post photos of my works in their new homes on Instagram, if that’s something you’d be okay with. If so, just take a photo and email it to me.” She handed him a business card. “Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy it for many years to come.”

“Definitely. My husband and I are big fans of your work.” He picked up the painting.

“I’m honored. Let me get the door for you—do you need help to your car?”

“Nope. I’m right out front. Thank you and happy holidays.”

“Same to you.” She watched him, making sure that he did, indeed, get to his car all right. When she saw his husband helping, she went back to the counter and got a text notification. Oh, God. Lexa. Everything just got so much better.

_Really looking forward to dinner._

_Hard same [winking emoji]_ , she texted back.

Lexa was typing a reply and Clarke bit her lower lip, waiting. God, everything she did seemed to set her on fire.

_Kinda hard focusing on work._

_Having a similar situation._

Lexa was typing again. _Wouldn’t trade it for anything. See you soon._

She held the phone against her chest and grinned. Still a couple hours to go, but the payoff was going to be so worth it.

###

 _just saw Clarke_ , Octavia texted to Raven when she got back to the pub. The reply was almost immediate.

_Did she tell you?_

_Yes [heart eyes emoji five times]_

_i want a block party. or 10_

Octavia laughed out loud. _So why didn’t you tell me?_ She waited for the response and in the meantime, she posted the evening specials on social media along with a reminder about hours, thinking about Clarke and Lexa. She’d totally cheerlead for them, but internally, she always had doubts.

_not my story to tell. AS MUCH AS I WANTED TO_

She read the response and called.

“Hey, Pubster,” Raven said when she answered.

“So I’m actually admiring your self-control.”

“Whatever, O. I can keep things on the down-low.”

“Clearly. And the latest is, they’re making dinner at Clarke’s tonight and Clarke says she and Lexa are spending Christmas Eve together.”

“Yes!”

Octavia held the phone away from her ear at her exclamation and imagined Raven doing some kind of goofy dance.

“Both of those things they’ve done in the past, of course,” Raven continued once she had calmed down, “but somehow, it’s so much more special now. And fuck, I’m now full of feels.”

“You’re full of something,” she said with a laugh.

“ _Feels_ , woman. _Feels_ for the ship of ages, which is pretty much loaded up and ready to sail. Told you.”

“It’s still really new. I mean, not even twenty-four hours.”

“Please. It’s been years in the making. The only thing different is that they finally acknowledged to each other what the rest of us have known all along. So though it might be new in some ways, in others it’s totally not.”

“Sometimes you scare me, with all the wisdom you drop.”

“As it should be.”

Lincoln appeared from the back, wearing one of his heavy sweatshirts and a knit cap. He looked like a longshoreman, especially with the heavy work gloves he pulled off and shoved into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Hi,” he mouthed and he kissed her cheek. His face was cold and she pressed her palm to his jaw, like she could warm him up that way. He grinned and turned to kiss it.

“Raven,” she whispered to him, gesturing at her phone.

He leaned in closer. “Hey, Raves. Happy Wednesday.”

“Hi, Lincoln,” she practically shouted back and Octavia held the phone out so he could hear. He did, and he grinned and did a thumbs-up gesture.

“Be right back,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

She nodded and focused on Raven again.

“So the news is going to slowly trickle out,” Raven said. “They’re not making any big secret of it, but they’re not necessarily broadcasting, either.”

“And that’s fine. They need to get used to what’s happening, and to what they want to do with it.” That’s how she and Lincoln had done it, but it went a lot faster than she had thought, and the adjustment was actually minimal.

“Duh. Ship of ages.”

“You say that now, and they seem to make a really great match, but we have to also consider other possibilities. They may not work as more than friends. And that could affect the crew.” She wouldn’t say that to Clarke, who had heart eyes times a thousand for Lexa, but it had gone through her mind.

“Stop it. Right now. That’s bad mojo. You and Lincoln worked out just fine, after all. So did Harper and Monty. And Bellamy and Echo—though admittedly, Echo was kind of a latecomer to the crew. Whatever. The point is, Clarke and Lexa are a great match.”

“Maybe right now they are. But that doesn’t mean they are for long-term.” And she hated thinking that, but somebody had to be the pragmatic one in this bunch.

“Oh, my God, would you stop pissing in everybody’s cornflakes? Jesus, O. Just be happy for them.”

“I _am_. I’m just…careful. They don’t even live in the same area, after all. And long distance isn’t necessarily easy.”

“Okay, fine, but let’s be affirming about the awesome that is Clexa. Also, love always finds a way.”

She laughed. “We are now officially a Hallmark movie.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Fine. I’ll totally go all out for the Hallmark Clexa movie.”

“Good. And now I have to go. I’ll catch up with you later. Muah.” She hung up and Octavia smiled. She really did want Clexa to succeed, and there was no reason to think it wouldn’t, but she was a worrier in that regard.

“Hey, babe,” Lincoln said. “Did you take care of those invoices?”

“Of course. We’re all good.”

“Awesome.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m gonna make some coffee. Want some?”

“Definitely. Also, I have some news.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good. Go put the coffee on. I’ll tell you when you’re done.”

“Cool.” He went back to the office where they kept the gourmet stuff for themselves and staff and she took stock of what they might need to order in terms of alcohol in the next week, since New Year’s was coming up and they generally had a lot of people on hand for that.

About ten minutes later Lincoln returned carrying two mugs. He handed one to her. “Okay, hit me with the news.”

“So I stopped by the gallery earlier today and basically, Clexa has left the dock,” she said with a smirk.

He stared at her. “Wait. Clarke and Lexa—?”

“Yep.”

And then he was grinning, and it lit up his eyes. “This is freaking _awesome_. When and how?”

She gave him the run-down. When she finished, he was still grinning.

“Damn, that’s really romantic. And as of last night, we have a canon ship situation.”

“Yes. And tonight, they’re doing a date night.”

“That’s also awesome. So what’s the deal with Christmas?”

“They’re spending Christmas Eve together and then part of Christmas Day with Abby, last I checked.”

“Damn.” He fist-pumped. “Go, Clexa.”

She laughed and sipped her coffee.

“I love this whole thing. It’s kind of like us.” He took her free hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb.

“I just worry that it won’t work out.”

He frowned. “Why would you even think that? They’ve known each other for years and all that time, they’ve had major chemistry. Why would that stop? If anything, it’s only going to get stronger now that they’re not trying to maintain the friend zone. The same thing happened with us.” He smiled, then. “You can’t tell me there wasn’t something between us when we first started hanging out as friends.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I’m just… you know.”

“Worrying and considering all possibilities. And this is, I think, more about your past than anything else. It’s okay to worry, but how about a little positive thinking? I think it’s legit to just go with the most obvious outcome, which is a super-awesome canon ship _finally_.”

“God, you’re such a nerd.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

She laughed and pulled him in for a kiss. “Yeah, I do.”

“Mmm-hmm. So who else knows?”

“Raven and Anya, obviously, but that’s about it. They’re not hiding it, but they’re also not necessarily making general announcements. I think they’re still trying to figure out how exactly they’re going to define this new situation.”

He set his cup on the bar. “You mean are they just dating or are they interested in going for more serious girlfriend status?”

“Yeah, I guess. We did that.”

He put his hands on her hips. “I was ready for serious right after I told you how I felt.”

He always made her feel like the center of the universe when he said things like that. “But we did do some talking about the new situation.”

“I figured you needed to.” He shrugged and smiled. “I knew what I wanted, but I was willing to wait however long it took for you to get to that point, too.”

She laughed and leaned into him. “It didn’t take long.”

“About a month. That was some awesome willpower on your part, because I’m really charming.”

“Oh, my God. Seriously?” She pulled away and smacked his abdomen playfully.

He laughed and intertwined their fingers. “Whatever time you needed, I was willing to wait. I knew when I met you that you’re a whole lot of amazing and I really wanted to know more.”

“Okay, maybe you’re a _little_ charming. But just a little.”

“Uh-huh,” he said triumphantly. “And I totally scored, getting you to agree to go out with me.”

“Don’t forget it.”

“Never.” He kissed her. “And seriously. Clarke and Lexa will be fine. They’re perfect for each other and we all see it.” He released her and picked up his coffee cup. “Best canon ship _ever_. Besides ours.” And he winked at her over the rim of the cup.

Octavia rolled her eyes and smiled.

###

“Hi, babe. Did you talk to Clarke today?” Raven asked as she set her yoga mat by the door and took her coat off.

Anya looked up from the couch where she was reading a journal article. “Briefly.”

“And?” Raven hung her coat up and let her hair down and Anya didn’t respond right away because Raven in her exercise tights with her hair down was a sight well worth appreciating.

Raven cleared her throat and looked at her pointedly.

“I’m not clear on why you think I’m capable of conversing with you when you look like that.” She gestured at her.

“Like what, exactly?” But she was smirking as she took her brace off.

“That. With those hot-ass tights and your hair all—like that.”

“Oh, my God, whatever.” Raven snorted a laugh and joined Anya on the couch, using her cane to get there. She flopped down next to her and leaned in for a kiss, which Anya enthusiastically returned.

Raven pulled away and started to get up again.

“You don’t have to do that,” Anya said.

“Oh? Why not?”

Anya set the article and her glasses on the coffee table. “I think you can figure it out,” she said before she kissed her again.

“Huh. Interesting.”

“Shut up and get over here, Reyes,” Anya practically growled.

“Interesting _and_ demanding. Sexy.” She gave her a wicked little grin and moved so Anya could pull her on top of her.

“Much better.”

Raven kissed her and God, Anya would never get tired of the feel of Raven’s mouth on hers, or the way her hair fell in a jasmine-scented curtain around her face. And her thighs pressed against hers—this was pretty clearly heaven.

“So what did Clarke say?”

Anya laughed. “Nosy. And nothing related to Lexa.”

“Then what the hell did she call for?” Raven teased as she nuzzled Anya’s throat and oh, that was hot.

“The weather. Her app was broken.”

“Oh, my God, you’re the worst.” She gently bit the skin of her neck and Anya drew her breath in sharply.

“Mmm. Okay, fine. She wanted to know who bought the tower painting,” she managed as Raven repositioned her thigh between Anya’s.

“So she _did_ talk about something related to Lexa.” Raven braced herself on her hands over Anya and looked down at her.

“You could make a case for that, but she didn’t realize that’s what she was doing.”

Raven’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t tell her Lexa bought it?”

“No. Lexa wants to tell her. Clarke wanted to know where the receipt is and I said I probably have it mixed up in my stuff.”

“But Lexa has it?”

“Yes.”

She grinned. “Such subterfuge. When is Lexa supposed to pick it up?”

“Tomorrow. But she’ll probably tell her tonight.” She ran her hands up Raven’s arms to her shoulders. “Will you now let Clexa sail on its own time and focus a bit on Ranya, maybe?”

Raven’s eyes widened and then she lowered herself and snuggled up against her. “I always have time for that.”

“But you _have_ been a little obsessed lately with Clexa.”

“And why not? My best friend finally told the woman who could possibly be the love of her life how she feels. Seems obsession-worthy.”

“You raise a good point.”

She slid her hand under Anya’s tee and rested it on her abdomen. “Do you think they’ll be all right?” There was a note of concern in her voice.

Anya smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Sounds like you talked to Octavia today.”

“Yeah. She said she stopped by the gallery and Clarke told her.”

“So the word is getting out, basically.”

“Octavia won’t tell anyone except Lincoln.”

“And she did her worry thing about Clarke and Lexa.”

Raven didn’t respond and Anya sighed.

“Babe, you know this is how Octavia gets. She worries when a dynamic shifts with people she cares about. She was a little weird about us, too.”

“But that was expected weirdness because we weren’t like her and Lincoln or Clarke and Lexa. We started flirting right off after Lexa introduced us. We kind of went into this with the intention of—well, of ending up like we are now. We didn’t start out as just friends first and she was being protective like a friend is.”

“True. But that doesn’t negate the fact that Octavia does this. The rest of the crew probably does, too, but Octavia just puts it out there.”

“I know. But it’s bad mojo. She said that they’re a good match right now, but that doesn’t mean they’ll last long-term, though she hopes they do.”

Anya rolled her eyes, glad Raven couldn’t see it. Dammit, Octavia. “Okay, here’s the deal. Clarke and Lexa are adults. They’ve known each other a long time, and there have been epic sparks between them for that long, too. If it’s going to work, it’ll work. There’s no reason to think it won’t, but it’s not our issue and it’s not on us to make sure it does. And right now, they’re trying to figure out how to interact with each other under these different circumstances, and that can be strange when you’ve been friends as long as they have.” She stroked Raven’s head. “Octavia can be a total Debbie Downer sometimes. You know that.”

She traced gentle patterns on Anya’s stomach and it was both relaxing and arousing. “Yes. I just want them to be okay and happy.”

“They _are_ okay and happy. They’re fine apart because they’re both strong, independent women doing what they enjoy. But I admit, they’ll make a hell of a power couple if they pull this off, and personally, I think they will. So stop worrying and let them do their thing.”

“You’re right. I just—I’ve known Clarke since high school and I want her, especially, to be okay.”

“She will be. She has a great support network. Plus, Lexa is _way_ into her and once she decides she’s into someone, she quietly does what needs to be done to make it work.”

“Good. Because Clarke’s way into Lexa, too, and you know when Clarke makes up her mind about something, that’s it.”

“There. See? Everything’s fine. Stop making problems where there aren’t any. Also, can we take a moment to appreciate that you admitted I’m right?”

Raven groaned then laughed softly. “Shit. You noticed.”

“Uh-huh.” She hugged her closer. “So how about it, Reyes? A little love for Ranya?”

“How about a _lot_ of love?” And she slid her hand down past the waistband of Anya’s sweatpants.

“That’ll totally work,” she said, heartbeat speeding up as Raven’s fingers teased her through her underwear. “Damn. I love it when you do that.”

Raven grinned. “You know what I love?”

“Science, the most recent _Star Wars_ movies, gaming, the drunken noodles from Ginger Café, Malibu rum, and peppermint chocolate tea.”

“Okay, besides all that.”

Anya angled her head to look at her. “Um…”

She smiled. “You.”

Anya smiled back. “Ranya forever.”

“Fuck, yeah. Now stop talking.”

“Gladly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me feels. Especially the scene when Clarke drops Lexa off after breakfast.
> 
> Also, shout-out to Linctavia and Ranya!


	9. Best Pizza Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa comes over to Clarke's for their first date, which involves making pizzas (no, really), talking, and a bit of romance. And cuddles. And more romance.

Lexa drove to Clarke’s because she had gone to the store for groceries and wine. If she drank too much, she’d walk back to Kristen’s. Or Clarke would probably let her crash at her house. They’d done that many times in the past.

Except things were a little different now and maybe it would be a better idea for her to walk back to Kristen’s. She chewed her lip before she got out of the car, thinking. She’d wanted to get physical with Clarke for years, but now that it was a real possibility, she was completely uncertain how to go about it and she was suddenly really, really nervous though she didn’t know why. She’d seen Clarke practically naked on spring break trips and she’d slept in the same bed with her and even cuddled—Jesus.

They had practically been a couple even then.

But they had been younger, and maybe didn’t think about how much was at stake when they did that.

And it sure felt now like a lot more was at stake.

Suddenly the thought of sex with Clarke was the scariest thing ever because what if they didn’t work together with that kind of physical intimacy? What if the thought of it was truly just a fantasy she’d constructed over the years that obscured the reality?

She groaned and leaned back on the seat. Overthinking. She was totally overthinking, especially since kissing her had blown her mind. It would be fine. Totally fine. Right? She got out of the car and got the bags out of the back and walked up onto Clarke’s front porch, which was the best porch ever, as far as Lexa was concerned.

Clarke had bought this 1930s-era bungalow a few years ago before real estate started to explode in this area. She had made it hers, with a quirky but understated paint job of blues, greens, and splashes of reds, and a bistro table on the porch. She had hung a wreath on the door and a string of red lights glowed around her front window while strings of white lights hung on her porch railings.

Clarke tended to meld rustic with urban chic, somehow, and it always included her own little touches. Lexa loved Clarke’s house because it always felt like Clarke, and it was warm and welcoming but with a sly little artist’s wink in the décor and flow.

She relaxed a little and rang the bell then waited, excited to see her but still not sure how to negotiate this new space.

“Hi,” Clarke said when she opened the door and oh, God, she was smiling and before Lexa could register anything else, Clarke was kissing her and everything short-circuited in her brain. She wasn’t sure how she managed to hold on to the grocery bags.

“Hi back,” Lexa finally managed and fuck, she was beautiful. She was wearing faded jeans and a large Polis University sweatshirt, but on her, it was so damn hot. She had her hair pulled back and Lexa really wanted to loosen it and run her fingers through it.

“So glad you’re here,” Clarke said, smile evolving into a teasing and playful smirk and she stood aside so Lexa could come in.

“Same here. And how is it that you’re so damn beautiful all the time?”

“You’re one to talk. And now I’m going to take advantage of you again. Do you mind?”

“Hell, no.”

And Clarke kissed her again, and it had that hungry edge to it and she bit down on Lexa’s bottom lip and oh, _God_. Lexa dropped the grocery bag that didn’t hold the wine bottles and pulled Clarke against her harder with her now free arm and good God how had her head not exploded yet?

“Mmm. Been thinking about doing that all day,” Clarke said as she pulled away and took the bag of wine and also picked up the one Lexa had dropped.

“I’ve had similar thoughts,” she said as she took her shoes off and left them on the rug by the door and followed Clarke through the living room into the kitchen. Clarke was wearing thick socks, and Lexa had done the same, because that was how Clarke rolled in her house.

“So I’ve got everything pretty much ready to go, Clarke said. “It’s that dough recipe you like.” She set the bags on the counter and started emptying them. Music was playing in the background. Something mellow and folky.

“Cool. Thanks. Let’s do two pizzas,” she said as she removed the two bottles of wine she had brought. Clarke had set a small plate out with some sliced cheese and veggies and took a piece of cheese then put the white wine in the fridge and left the red out on the counter.

“I was thinking the same thing. Would you like a glass of wine?”

Lexa gave her a look and Clarke laughed.

“Start with the red?”

“Yes. I’ll get this going.” Lexa picked up the ground Italian sausage she had picked up at the store and set it on the stove then retrieved a frying pan from the cabinet nearby, and it occurred to her that she knew this space, had cooked with her many times in the past and she loved the familiarity but also loved how much deeper it felt tonight.

“Octavia came by the gallery today,” Clarke said as she opened the bottle of wine.

“And?” Lexa glanced at her, thinking about the painting she had bought and debating if she should reveal that or wait.

“I told her.” She took wine glasses out of one of the cabinets and Lexa decided to hold off on telling her abut the painting.

“Raven hadn’t?”

“No.” Clarke poured wine into the glasses.

“I’m not even sure what to do with that.” Lexa dumped the sausage into the pan, broke it up with a spatula, then turned the burner on. “So how’d she take it?”

“About the same way Raven did, but with less screaming.”

Lexa laughed.

“She asked if she could tell Lincoln.” Clarke set a glass of wine next to Lexa. She had a piece of cheese in her hand and she took a bite then held the rest of it up. When Lexa nodded, she fed it to her, her fingers brushing her lips and it made sparks dance up her spine.

“Of course she can,” Lexa said after she swallowed. She picked up the glass and turned to face her.

“That’s what I told her. So it appears that we’re going to be the ones responsible for letting the most people know.”

She shrugged and smirked. “Not really my focus right now.”

Clarke responded with an answering smirk. “Oh? So what exactly _is_ your focus?”

“Stick around and find out.”

“Mmm. I plan to.” She touched her glass to Lexa’s. “To focus.”

“And Secret Santas.” She got caught in Clarke’s eyes again and they stared at each other for a few moments, the air seeming to spark.

Clarke broke the moment with a soft, gentle kiss that Lexa felt all the way to her feet.

“The first time I wanted to kiss you was about a month after we met,” Clarke said, and she hooked her fingers on one of the front pockets of Lexa’s jeans and God, she loved this expansion of their familiarity. “At that party Bellamy had at his divey apartment. It was a couple weeks after fall classes started.”

Her eyes widened with surprise. “I remember that party. It was a classic college get-together and it went practically all night.”

Clarke laughed. “Yeah. Started around nine and just kept going. Bellamy lived a block from that liquor store—we made a couple trips there, you and I, that night.”

“Oh, hell, yeah. We bought the cheapest, grossest beer they had. And somebody ordered pizza twice.”

“Oh, yeah. Who was that?”

“I have no idea. Probably Jasper and Monty.” She really liked that Clarke retained her grip on her pocket. It felt proprietary, like she was staking out her territory, which was kind of hot. “We talked almost the whole time, mostly in the kitchen. Except when we went to get beer. I thought you were funny and smart and really interesting.”

Clarke laughed. “But we also argued.”

She smiled. “A little. But we laughed a lot, too.”

“True. Because you’re funny, too. A little more reserved at first, but I liked how you kept up with me and you didn’t take it personally when I questioned your views.”

“Yeah, well, I thought the same thing about you.”

“You walked me home that night,” Clarke said. “And when we got to my place, you said thanks for talking and you hoped we could do it again some time.”

Lexa nodded. “I remember that.” Clarke had been wearing shorts and a V-neck tee because it was still warm out and her hair was deliciously tousled and God, the beauty mark above her lip—she had been transfixed.

“That was when I first wanted to kiss you,” Clarke said, and she leaned in a little.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I think because I felt that you were different. Special. And I wanted to get to know you better.”

“So you’re saying I’m not one-night stand material?” Lexa teased and she traced patterns on Clarke’s hand.

“Not where I’m concerned. I wanted something else.” She brushed her lips over Lexa’s. “Not sure what it was, but I preferred to just…wait. Though I didn’t realize it would be quite this long.” She smiled and kissed her again.

“I’m glad about all of that. Even the waiting part, because maybe it just wasn’t time until now.”

“Maybe. And you’d better check your sausage.” She smirked and pulled away and Lexa huffed, which made Clarke laugh again.

She used the spatula to stir the sausage a bit then joined Clarke at the kitchen island to start making the dough for the pizzas, and it was so easy, falling into this rhythm with her, bantering and talking as they worked except there were extra layers, now, and their touches—even the light, quick ones—held much more meaning.

When the sausage was done cooking, Lexa turned the heat off and drained it, then took the pepperoni out of the fridge and started slicing it while Clarke chopped zucchini then sliced mushrooms. Once they did that, they made an easy pizza sauce.

“Olives are in the fridge,” Clarke said when that was done.

“On it.” Lexa took the jar of kalamata olives out and started slicing those while Clarke went to work on the banana peppers. “So,” she said, “the first time I wanted to kiss you was the week after we met.”

Clarke stopped slicing and looked over at her. “Really?”

She nodded. “We were at the student center getting coffee and you were talking about your latest art project and how much you loved it and seeing that passion you felt for it in your eyes—it was beautiful. And I remember thinking that I wanted to taste it on your lips, too.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow.

“I had no idea where that thought came from. And it kind of scared me, because why the hell was I thinking those things about someone I’d just met? I mean, I’m not adverse to hitting it with someone hot for a one-nighter, but…I don’t know. I liked you, too. And I liked the idea of having you around for a while. A one-night stand wasn’t necessarily conducive to that.”

“So basically, we totally could have hooked up years ago,” Clarke said with a smile.

“Probably? Maybe? But I’m still glad we didn’t.” She moved closer, until there were barely inches between them.

Clarke cupped Lexa’s chin and pulled her even closer. “I am, too.”

Lexa closed the distance, and this kiss was long and slow and God, everything was melting within and she could hold on to her forever.

The oven timer went off and Clarke sighed as she pulled away. “Be right back.”

Lexa watched as she took the two pizza pans with the crusts out of the oven and set them on the island to cool and it felt like past and present collided.

Clarke looked over at her and they regarded each other for a few moments. “I keep feeling that this is really familiar but also really new,” Clarke said and another round of butterflies took off in Lexa’s chest.

“Same here.” She picked up the bottle of wine and refilled their glasses.

“It’s also really exciting.”

“Completely.” She brushed an errant strand of hair out of Clarke’s face and tucked it behind her ear and Clarke took her hand and kissed her palm.

“I’m still worried I’m going to wake up and this won’t be happening,” she said quietly.

“I have the same thought, but I’m not going to stop doing this because I waited so long to get here. I’d rather take this chance.”

Clarke let go of her hand and slid her arms around her waist. Lexa responded by hugging her back, and it felt so good, being this close without the weight of trying to maintain a friend zone. They stood like that for a while, not saying anything, just holding on, Clarke’s head on her shoulder and she was pretty sure this was what heaven was about.

“This is nice,” Clarke said, voice soft.

“ _So_ nice.”

“I always feel safe with you.” She nuzzled her neck and Lexa closed her eyes at the sensation of Clarke’s lips against her skin. “Even when we had disagreements, I always knew you had my back.”

“I did. I still do.”

“I know.” She gently kissed Lexa’s neck and oh, God, how could something so simple be so incredible? She then gave her a quick kiss on the lips and pulled away. “And I’m going to start putting toppings on the crusts because if I don’t, I’m going to end up extremely distracted and I want to talk more and…just be around you.”

Lexa nodded and picked up the bowl of pizza sauce and went to work with a spoon, spreading it onto one of the crusts. When she moved to the next one, Clarke started putting toppings on the first—pepperoni, olives, and zucchini while the second was sausage, banana peppers, and mushrooms.

“These are some fucking awesome pizzas,” Lexa said. She sprinkled grated mozzarella and asiago over them both.

“Agree.” Clarke put the pizzas in the oven and set the timer for twenty minutes. “So let’s talk about Christmas,” she said as she picked up her wine glass. “I’m basically selfish and would really like to have you to myself on Christmas Eve, but Octavia said we’re welcome to hang out with them for a bit. Monty and Harper will be there, and so will Jasper and Murphy. What do you think?”

Lexa sipped her own wine. “Do you remember that Christmas your first year of your MFA?”

“The snowpocalypse year? When everybody in my town got stranded? Including me?

“Yes.”

“So I called you, and we spent at least four hours on the phone? _That_ Christmas?”

Lexa didn’t respond. Instead, she smiled and Clarke laughed.

“So you’re saying you’d prefer Christmas Eve with just me?”

“I mean, I love our friends. Polis crew is the best. But I really want some time with you outside of that.”

Clarke smiled, too.

“So yes, I’m saying I want to spend Christmas Eve with you, and nobody else.”

“Good. And what, exactly, does that entail? Because I’m pretty sure you’re one of _those_ people who works on Christmas Eve.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong. But not this year.”

“Good precedent, Counselor. Especially if you intend to hang out with me on a regular basis.”

“Duly noted.” And damn right she intended to do that.

“So we need a plan, then.”

“Holiday market. Churros. Hot chocolate.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “I approve.”

“And a movie.”

“An early movie. Then the market.”

“And then some light-gazing. We could walk around and do that. Wouldn’t have to drive.”

“I love how you call Christmas decoration tours light-gazing.”

“I mean—it kind of is.” She shrugged and sipped her wine.

“It _totally_ is.” Clarke laughed and brushed past her to check the pizzas, and her hand lingered momentarily on Lexa’s hip, which she secretly loved because it felt affectionate but also kind of sexy. “What do you want to do for Christmas Eve dinner?” Clarke asked as she opened the oven door.

“Take-out Indian.”

“I love that idea. Do you want to come back here?”

“If that’s all right with you.”

“It’s completely all right with me. And preferable, actually.” Clarke closed the oven and checked the time then looked at her. “I’ll double-check with my mom about what time she wants us there on Christmas Day. It’s usually around two, so we can leave around one or so.”

“Sounds good. What about food?”

“I’ll see what she says. Don’t stress about getting anything. I’ve got it handled.”

“I’m not going to your mom’s empty-handed,” she said with exaggerated horror.

“Fine. Get her a nice bottle of white wine.” She stopped and her brow creased, a signal that something had just occurred to her. “When are you supposed to go back to New York? I mean, I know you said you had left your schedule a little open-ended, but I’m guessing you’ll be needed to do some lawyer things up there soon.”

She smiled. “And again, you’re not wrong. I do have some things scheduled for the twenty-seventh, so I’ll need to leave the day before. But like I said, I left things open-ended prior to that.”

Clarke gave her a wicked little grin. “In case you got lucky?”

Lexa started to respond, then stopped and cleared her throat, heat from her blush suffusing her neck and face.

Clarke’s grin widened. “Do tell, Woods. Did you?”

“Jesus,” she muttered as she picked up her glass.

“Well?”

Lexa sighed with exaggerated patience. “Fine. Yes. I did.”

She raised her eyebrows, expression puzzled.

“Because I’m here with you, in a way I’ve wanted to be for a long time.”

Clarke stared at her for a beat, then leaned in and gently kissed her. “I got lucky, too, for the same reason.” She took Lexa’s free hand. “So you need to head back up the twenty-sixth. If we end up stuck in DC the twenty-fifth we still have the twenty-sixth to get you back here. Unless you would rather drive down separately on the twenty-fifth and then just stay in DC and then leave from there. It’ll be easier to drop your rental car off, too, rather than driving from here on the twenty-sixth and also having to take a train that same day to New York.”

“I don’t mind driving the twenty-sixth. And I’ll grab the express to New York that day.”

“Weather permitting. If anything changes between now and then and it looks like it might snow, I’d prefer that you drive separately to DC on Christmas Day and that you stay with Raven and Anya before you leave. I want you safe.”

Lexa smiled. “The same goes for you. If the weather turns bad, we’ll adjust our plans.”

“That’s a deal.” She sipped her wine, eyes seeming to sparkle.

“And what about _your_ schedule until the twenty-sixth?”

“The gallery’s closed Christmas Eve and Day. The twenty-sixth my assistant is back and she’ll open and be there. Normally, I’d go in and be doing business things in the back office, but this year, there are extenuating circumstances.”

She raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Which are…?”

“You know damn well.”

She cocked her head and smirked. “Maybe I just want to hear you say it.”

“So that’s how this is,” Clarke said with an answering grin. She moved closer and hooked a finger on one of Lexa’s belt loops and pulled her closer. “The extenuating circumstances, Ms. Woods, are you.”

“I think I like being your extenuating circumstances.” Which was a monumental understatement and God, she was really loving this aspect of Clarke—the full-on flirtatiousness directed right at her, without the carefully constructed barriers of a friend zone.

“I do, too.” She leaned in and grazed Lexa’s cheek with her lips and God, it was both sweet and fucking hot.

Lexa put her hands on Clarke’s hips and pressed her cheek against Clarke’s and her heart pounded and she closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of Clarke’s skin against hers, and the faint smell of vanilla and something crisp and something else uniquely Clarke and it was both arousing and comforting.

The oven timer sounded, a series of beeps and Clarke laughed softly. “You’re saved by the bell,” she whispered, her mouth close to Lexa’s ear before she pulled away.

“Too bad.”

Clarke shot her a sultry look over her shoulder before she took a hot pad and pulled one of the pizzas out of the oven and set it on the stovetop. “What do you think?”

“Best pizza ever, no doubt.” She opened one of the drawers in the island, found the pizza cutter, and handed it to her.

With quick, practiced motions, Clarke sliced the pizza and set the pan on the island before she removed the second one and did the same thing. Lexa got plates out of the cabinets and loaded them both with a slice from each pan then carried them into the dining room.

Clarke followed her with silverware and napkins. “Do you want water?”

“I’ll get it. Sit down.” She took care of that and then brought their wine glasses out along with the bottle. “How is it?” she asked when she sat down across from her.

“So good. And you were right. It might possibly be the best pizza ever.”

“I think it’s the company that makes it that way.”

“Definitely part of it.”

Lexa smiled and tried the sausage slice first. “Damn, that _is_ some good pizza. We should do this more often.”

“I vote yes.”

“Excellent. More pizza with Clarke. Making a note.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and pretended to add something to it.

“Kinda hoping for a bit more than that,” she shot back, with that little Clarke smirk that drew Lexa’s attention directly to the beauty mark above her lip.

“Okay…wine.” She pretended to type again.

Clarke laughed and nudged Lexa’s calf with her foot, like she had at the restaurant that morning and the gesture, though simple, carried so much more weight, now.

Lexa put her phone back in her pocket and took Clarke’s hand and interlaced their fingers. “Thank you.”

“For…?”

“Asking me to dinner.”

“Thank _you_ for saying yes.”

“How could I not?” she said softly and she gently squeezed her hand before she released it.

“I still worried you wouldn’t.”

“I know. But you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Clarke regarded her. “So if I asked you out again you’d say yes?”

“Definitely.”

“Cool.” She poured a little more wine into Lexa’s glass and then her own. “So what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Spending more time with you.”

Her smile lit up her eyes and Lexa got lost in them, but it was exactly where she had always wanted to be. “So…dinner?”

Lexa smiled back. “Absolutely. Burgers?”

“At the pub?”

“Yeah. I don’t get burgers that good in New York.”

Clarke snort-laughed.

“Unless you wanted to go somewhere else.”

“No, that’s perfect.” She ran her fingers lightly over Lexa’s, where they rested around the base of her wine glass.

“I mean, unless—that is, it’s…um…” she bit her lip.

“Out in public?”

“Yeah. So if that’s a little too weird, we can go somewhere else.”

“Wouldn’t that be public, too?” Clarke’s fingers rested now on Lexa’s.

“Yes. But no, not if we went somewhere that isn’t necessarily where we—that is, you—would be known.” God, that sounded awkward.

“And? That’s what people do sometimes on dates. They go out.” Clarke went back to stroking Lexa’s fingers and it caused sparks to race up her arm.

Lexa started to say something else but Clarke gently squeezed her hand.

“I want to go out to dinner with you. And I don’t care where, because this is about us, not anybody else. Okay?”

She nodded, hung up on how Clarke said “us.” She probably shouldn’t be having as many feels as she was about that, because this was still so damn new between them, but she couldn’t stop them and she didn’t want to.

“Besides, if anybody gets it, it’s Octavia,” Clarke said.

“Except it only took her and Lincoln two years to figure it out.”

She shrugged. “Better late than never.” She flashed her another sexy grin.

“There’s that.” She smiled and they chatted more while they ate, and though they had eaten many meals together in the past, this one was punctuated with light touches on each other’s hands and arms and a lot more flirting, and Lexa was totally here for it.

“Want another slice?” Clarke asked when Lexa finished the second.

“I’m good, actually. Those were kind of big.”

“Go big or go home, Woods,” Clarke said, still smiling, as she stood.

She laughed and got up and picked up their plates and went into the kitchen where she scraped them then put them in the dishwasher. Clarke placed their water glasses on the counter next to her and Lexa loaded those. Clarke went back into the dining room and Lexa got a plastic container out of one of the cabinets and started putting the rest of the pizza in it.

Clarke reappeared with the wine glasses. Lexa looked up a few seconds later to find her watching her, still holding the glasses and smiling.

“What’s up?” Lexa asked, smiling back.

“It’s—I’m just really glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.”

“And…maybe this sounds weird, and I know you’ve been here bunches of times before, but—” she stopped and bit her lower lip, something she did when she was thinking about what to say.

Lexa stopped putting the pizza into the container and waited for her to finish her thought.

“I guess—I mean, it’s really familiar, having you here and you know your way around my house, for the most part, and it…it just feels really good, because finally, you know how I feel about you.”

Lexa took the glasses from her and set them on the counter, cupped the back of her neck, and pulled her into a slow, gentle kiss that became more than one and it was almost overwhelming, how good it felt to kiss her, how right. She stopped after a few more moments, aware of Clarke’s hands on her hips, and her thighs against hers.

“Okay?” Lexa asked and Clarke smiled.

“Yes. You?”

“Definitely.”

Clarke made a cute little noise and leaned her forehead against Lexa’s and they stood like that for a while and Lexa didn’t want to ever leave.

“Can you stay a while longer?”

Lexa pulled away a little. “Yes.”

“Want some after-dinner coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Then how about you finish with the pizza and I’ll get the coffee going and we can hang out a bit.”

Lexa nodded, trying not to overthink anything and just be in the moment but how could she _not_ think about getting Clarke out of those jeans—she focused on the pizza momentarily but her thoughts went right back to Clarke and she watched her and she wanted to kiss the back of her neck and God, she was nervous as fuck about moving beyond kissing and the touches they’d been sharing though she wanted to. _God_ how she wanted to, but they were new at this more-than-friends stuff and she really didn’t want to screw it up—

“That’s a lot of loud thinking you’ve got going on over there,” Clarke said as she turned on the coffee machine. “Want to talk about it?”

Lexa chuckled and put the pizza in the fridge and reminded herself that it was Clarke. They’d talked about pretty much everything in the past.

Except this.

She moved the pizza pans to the sink then looked at Clarke, who regarded her with a mix of curiosity and concern in her eyes.

“I’m seriously into you,” Lexa said. “And now that this—” she gestured at Clarke then herself, “is happening, it’s like I told you. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I beg to differ.”

She started washing one of the pans. “I mean, I know what I _want_ to do, but I’m feeling like there’s so much at stake and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You won’t.”

“I wish I felt that way.” She scrubbed unnecessarily hard at a pan.

“Hey,” Clarke said and she moved closer and put her hand on the small of Lexa’s back. “We’re fine—no, we’re more than fine.” She stroked her back, something she had done in the past, but it felt different now, and it was charged with more possibility. “What specifically are you worried about?”

God, Clarke knew her so well. She set the pan aside. “Getting more intimate.”

“Okay. So what about that concerns you?”

She started working on the second pizza pan. “That—” she stopped, staring at the pan, then looked up at Clarke and sighed. “That we won’t click and we’ll have to go back to being friends. Which I guess isn’t the worst thing ever, but it just feels like there is so much more at stake between us in terms of intimacy.” She frowned. “I’m kind of scared, I guess, that it won’t work if we get more intimate.” She put the pan down and turned toward her.

Clarke didn’t respond right away but she moved even closer and brushed Lexa’s hair away from her face. “I get it. I’m a little scared, too, but not enough to stop this.” She cupped Lexa’s cheek. “I’ve waited too long to get to this point to go back and yes, sex means a lot more—to me, at least—when there’s more at stake emotionally, but that’s part of the journey.” She stroked Lexa’s cheek with her thumb. “And there is no way I’m stopping now. Unless you want me to.” Worry flashed in her eyes.

“No,” Lexa said emphatically and she covered Clarke’s hand with her own. “I just—I care about you and what’s happening between us so much and I want to get more intimate. But damn, you’re really special to me.”

A slow smile lit up Clarke’s face and she pulled her hand free and hooked her fingers on Lexa’s belt loops and pulled her close and fuck, her eyes were so goddamn blue. Like the sky. Lexa could stare at them all day.

“Are we basically talking about sex right now?” Clarke asked.

Lexa stared at her then grinned as tension left her body. She nodded. “Yes, Clarke, I’m talking about sex.”

“Uh-huh. We’ve talked about sex before.” Her smile shifted to teasing. “And we’ve both actually _had_ sex. Unless you’ve been fibbing.”

Lexa rolled her eyes. “Duh. This is different.”

“How?”

“Because we’ve known each other a long time in a totally different capacity and this is sex between _us_. Which is a whole other thing.”

“Because…?”

“Because you mean a lot to me and I don’t want this to be a one-night thing. I know that sounds like a lot of future plans and shit, but I don’t want to just hit it with you and then move on because oh, good, got it out of my system, after all these years. That’s not how I see this and it’s not _ever_ how I’ve seen you. Sex with you is going to mean a lot to me. That’s what I mean when I say there’s a whole lot at stake and it kind of scares me.”

She stared at her, and her eyes were full of warmth and relief. “God, you’re amazing.” And then she hugged her. Lexa stiffened for a moment, surprised, but then returned it, and wrapped her in her arms and it felt so good to hold her.

“So are you.”

“I’m pretty sure we don’t have to worry that we’re not going to click.”

“How’s that?” And damn, she smelled good.

“Because we’ve been clicking since the beginning. It just took a while to realize that there was already more than just friends between us.”

Lexa smiled, relief spreading through her like a warm, slow tide.

“And I’m pretty sure you said you were into me,” Clarke said after a few moments.

“Totally.”

“Then what are you worried about?” She pulled back a little so she could look at her.

“I—shit. That’s a very good question. Are you worried?”

“I’ve thought about what’s at stake emotionally, yes. But I’m _way_ into you and I haven’t thought about dating you or having sex as a one-time thing, either. Which is why I asked you out again.”

Lexa smiled. “My calendar is clear where you’re concerned.”

“Good. Are you doing anything Christmas Day evening?”

“Spending time with you.”

“So is that a date, too?”

“Yes.” Lexa kissed her and she had meant it to be just a quick, affectionate acknowledgement, but it turned into a slow, sexy makeout session and God, how had she waited so long to do this?

“Still worried?” Clarke asked against her mouth after a few more minutes, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed.

“Maybe not. Because…damn.”

“Mmm. Same.” She gently bit down on Lexa’s lower lip and shit, that was hot, too. And then she pulled away, but the look in her eyes—Lexa swallowed. She knew she had the same expression in hers. “Coffee?” Clarke asked and Lexa realized that it had finished brewing and had probably been sitting for a while.

“Yes.” She smiled and went back to washing the last pizza pan while Clarke got cups and creamer out. While she was engaged in that, Lexa wiped the countertops down.

“Thanks.” Clarke handed her a cup. “Want to see some of the stuff I’m working on?”

“Wow. Hell, yes.” Clarke was generally private with regard to her art, but she had always made an exception for her.

“You make it sound like you’re about to view the Ark of the Covenant or something.”

“In a way, maybe I am. Artists aren’t always willing to do that with just anybody.”

Clarke gave her a kiss. “You’re not just anybody.” She took her hand and walked her up the stairs and down the hall to one of the spare bedrooms.

“Are you going to remodel the garage, you think?” Lexa asked.

“At some point.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind having a studio in the house. The light in this back room is so good and a remodel job is a lot of time and money that I don’t really feel like investing right now.” She let go of Lexa’s hand so she could open the bedroom door and turn the light on. Here, Clarke had installed track lighting that could be controlled via a remote she kept on a shelf by the door. She adjusted it and Lexa looked around and set her cup down next to Clarke’s on one of the shelves near the door. Shelves lined the front wall, filled with tubes of paint and various “artist gear,” as Lexa had always referred to art supplies. Clarke kept things well-organized, but not so organized that the room felt cold and sterile. Rather, it was comfortable and warm, like Clarke herself.

Several blank canvases leaned against a side wall. Clarke liked to draw things out before she started working on a painting, and she used that wall as a bulletin board, too, and had taped various sketches to it in order of their conception, so there was a chronological record via sketch of her changing ideas with regard to particular paintings. It was a habit she’d had since Lexa had met her, and for some reason, it made her smile, seeing the evolution of her work on the wall like that.

Her primary easel stood roughly in the middle of the room, currently positioned so that she could catch light from the windows, which were opposite the door. The easel held a large canvas—easily three feet by four. Two other easels stood in the back corner. One held a half-finished painting and the other a blank canvas. A few other canvases of various sizes leaned against the wall opposite the sketch wall, some finished, a couple not.

A drawing table stood near one of the windows on the back wall. Clarke liked to work with natural light as much as possible, and she loved the thought of her sitting at the table, sketching something out, then looking out the window, thinking.

“Can I see?” Lexa asked as she gestured at the easel in the middle of the room.

“I _did_ bring you up here.” She smiled and adjusted the light with the remote so it bathed the easel and canvas in a soft, warm glow.

Lexa walked around the easel to view the painting. She let her breath out in a long exhale. “It’s beautiful.”

“I think you might be biased.”

“Totally. You know how much I love this tower. Are you doing a series?”

“I guess kind of. You could consider this one a follow-up to the one in my gallery that I had at my show. But it’s a standalone, too. I’ve tentatively named it ‘Twilight,’ because it’s an evening scene.”

“Is that—” Lexa leaned in closer. “A wall? A city wall?”

“Yes. This is a slightly different view than the other, which I wanted to feel like the viewer’s in a really dense forest and sees this tower looming above the canopy. This one brings the viewer a little closer, so that they can see glimpses of a wall.” She joined Lexa at the easel.

“It’s otherworldly but not. It could be here on Earth. But also somewhere else,” Lexa said softly.

“Yeah, but I like to think it’s Earthbound. Maybe sometime in the past or future. I’m going for timeless.”

“Nailed it.”

“Thanks.” Clarke slid her arm around Lexa’s waist and rested her head on her shoulder.

Lexa moved her arm and put it around her shoulders to embrace her in a half-hug. “I love it.”

“So do I.” They were quiet for a while, looking at the painting and Lexa felt a strange familiarity, almost like déjà vu.

“I look at that tower and it’s like I’ve been there,” she said. “Can’t explain it.”

“I feel that way, too. So it’s especially hard for me to let the tower paintings go.”

“I get why.”

“And I still don’t know who bought the one in my show. Anya said today she probably had the receipt copy mixed up in her stuff.” She paused. “I should text her and see if she found it.” She adjusted her position so she could take her phone out of her pocket. Lexa moved her arm, but immediately missed the contact.

“Clarke—”

“You know how I am. I like to make sure my paintings are going to good homes.”

Lexa put her hand on Clarke’s. “You don’t need to bother Anya about this.”

“It’s not that late yet and I like to know who buys my art. I don’t know who bought that painting and it’s bothering me that I don’t.”

She smiled. “You kind of do know.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed.

“I think I’m a good home for it.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait. Are you saying--oh, my God.”

“Yeah. I bought it. The receipt’s at the carriage house. I’ll give you your copy tomorrow.”

“What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me at the show that you bought it?”

“I didn’t want you to try to talk me out of it—” she put her fingers over Clarke’s lips to prevent her from saying anything. “And I didn’t want you to try to give me a deal on it.” She moved her hand and Clarke regarded her, a half-smile at the corner of her mouth.

“Why not? I totally would have knocked a couple hundred off the price.”

“I know. But you’re a working artist, and I want to pay what you ask for your art.”

“So you were doing another scheme, here?”

“Kind of. I love that painting and depending on what had happened that night, I didn’t want more weirdness. Like if things didn’t work out, I didn’t want you feeling bad that I had spent money like that. And if things did work out, well, then I wanted to surprise you. Plus, you were busy that night and I didn’t want to add stress.”

Clarke put her arms around Lexa’s neck. “You’re fucking cute when you get all complicated with your schemes.”

Lexa grinned, sheepish. “I mean, they’re schemes in good faith.”

“True. Anya had me going about the receipt, by the way.”

“She’s a good co-conspirator. Make a note of that.”

Clarke laughed. “You know, you didn’t have to buy a painting to get a date with me,” she teased.

“Really? Wait…”

Clarke chuckled and kissed her and how was it that she felt it practically everywhere in her body?

“It’s extremely distracting when you do that,” Lexa said softly.

“That’s kind of the idea. Get out of your head, Woods.” She smiled and brushed her lips over Lexa’s, a light, butterfly touch that sent sparks rocketing through her chest. “I’ll wrap the painting for you and hold it over your head as something to get you to drive down from New York to pick it up.”

“Does this mean you’re asking me on another date?”

“Absolutely.”

Lexa nodded, pretending to think. “Or you could drive to New York with it.”

“True. Does that mean you’re asking _me_ on a date?”

“Totally.”

“Done.”

She smirked. “That was easy.”

“Only where you’re concerned.” Clarke raised an eyebrow and smirked back, flirty and affectionate, and then she retrieved another remote from the shelf and pointed it at the ceiling. With a soft whirr, the blinds over the two large skylights slowly unveiled the night sky. Clarke then dimmed the lights.

Lexa stared up at the stars. “I love how amazing the view out your skylights is.”

“Right? Another reason that I’ve kept this room as a studio. And…there’s music, too.” She took her phone out and a few seconds later, a soft, slow groove filled the space. She set her phone on her drafting table. “Sometimes I come up here and just sit and stare at the stars. Especially when it’s cold out. Makes me think of my dad, stargazer that he was. But it’s also really peaceful.”

“Yeah, it is.” Lexa took Clarke’s hand and pulled her closer, sliding her free arm around her waist. Clarke rested her free arm on her shoulder as Lexa moved them slowly to the music.

“Is this a first for us?” Clarke asked. “Dancing like this?”

“Like we mean it?”

She laughed softly and held her gaze. “Yeah. So…do you mean it?”

“Hell, yes.” Though maybe she had always meant it, even when they were at parties in college and goofing off. Maybe underneath it all, she had always had a place in her heart for her.

“Good,” Clarke whispered near her ear and surely, this was heaven, moving slowly with her like this in the muted starlight.

“You know,” Lexa said softly after a while, “I love that painting.”

“So you’ve said. And you did buy it, after all.”

“Do you think it would be all right if it stayed here in Polis with you?”

Clarke regarded her, the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. “Does that mean you’ll come down to see it regularly?”

“Yes. And that I’d totally use the opportunity to visit you, too.”

“Oh, well, that’s awfully nice of you, fitting me in around my painting,” she said, teasing.

“It’s all part of my plan to see you more often.”

“You didn’t need to buy a painting to do that, either.”

“Shit. Really?”

She laughed. “But I’m glad you did. It feels right.”

“Yeah. It does.”

“And so does this.” Clarke kissed her and everything was perfect.

“I concur,” Lexa said after a few minutes of slow dancing and slow kissing.

“So do you think you’d be up for a movie?” Clarke asked.

“As long as it means couch cuddles.”

“God, how cute are you?” She pecked her on the cheek. “That’s exactly what it means. Also, a warm-up on the coffee. Since we kind of forgot we had it.”

“See? Told you you’re distracting.”

“Me? _You_.” And then she did that thing where she bit her lower lip and smiled and yeah, okay, Lexa was a total goner. “C’mon,” Clarke said as she pulled away. She closed the blinds over the skylights and they each picked up their cups of coffee and went back downstairs. A few minutes later they settled onto the couch and Lexa couldn’t even tell what happened in the movie they watched because she was too wrapped up in how good it felt to have Clarke snuggled against her under a blanket and fuck, she could get used to this.

Really fucking used to it.

And it didn’t matter that her arm got a little cramped or her leg went numb. All that mattered was that Clarke was right here, laughing and making funny quips and snarky comments and tracing patterns on her thigh that she felt even through her jeans.

They’d done this many times in the past, huddled close during horror films, and it occurred to her that everything they had done—all their interactions before this moment—had been leading to this moment and she kissed the top of Clarke’s head, and Clarke made a contented noise and pulled her closer.

“I totally love watching movies with you,” Clarke said as the credits rolled. “This is definitely on the to do again list.”

“It’s on mine, too.”

Clarke yawned and sighed. “Reminder. I have to go to the gallery tomorrow.”

“I know.” She carefully extricated her arm, sandwiched between Clarke and the back of the couch.

“Are you going to be around? Still no surprise meetings?”

“Nope,” Lexa said as she stood up, already dreading the brief but cold drive to Kristen’s and totally missing the feel of Clarke against her.

Clarke stood, too, and chewed her lip for a moment. “Then…maybe stay?”

Wait. What? Oh, God. “Um—”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Clarke added hastily. “I just…I just would like to have you close. Unless you’re not comfortable with that and it’s okay if you’re not—”

“Yes.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed slightly. “Yes you’ll stay or yes you’re not comfortable?”

“Yes, I’ll stay.”

“Cool.” And then they stared at each other, a little awkward, until Clarke grinned. “Oh, my God. How many times have we spent the night with each other before this?”

Lexa smiled back. “Lots.”

“In the same damn bed.”

“Yeah. But this is what I was saying. It was different then.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “Was it?”

“Different expectations.”

She smirked and tossed the throw they’d been using back onto the couch. “Different possibilities, you mean.”

“That too.” Or maybe they were finally recognizing the possibilities. She picked up the empty coffee cups and took them into the kitchen and she knew instinctively that Clarke was checking the locks on the front door and then she’d come into the kitchen to check the back door—yep, here she was. And then she’d ask to make sure there was nothing else to do—

“Got it?” Clarke asked from the back door and Lexa smiled. How many times had they done this in the past after parties or get-togethers and then Lexa would just crash with her? Many.

“Just about. Go on up.” And then she caught herself because that felt _too_ familiar, like they were already operating on the intimate levels that had freaked her out earlier.

She didn’t need to worry, clearly, because Clarke smiled and it was reflected in her eyes. “See you up there.” She lingered a moment, holding her gaze, before she left and Lexa remembered the year they met when they were nineteen and the first time Clarke had stayed over at her place after a house party. She had borrowed a pair of Lexa’s shorts and a tee and the two of them had slept on Lexa’s futon and Lexa woke up to Clarke wrapped around her, head on her shoulder and rather than disturb her to maintain a boundary, she just carefully moved her arm to prevent it from going numb in one position and then went back to sleep.

The second time she woke up that night, she had somehow spooned Clarke and Clarke’s hand was top of Lexa’s where it rested against her abdomen and again Lexa had just slightly adjusted her position and fallen back asleep.

They had fit together just right, she realized.

They always had.

She smiled and turned out the light then went upstairs. Clarke was in the bathroom, but she had left a pair of sweats and a loose tee on her bed. Lexa put them on and placed her folded clothes on a shelf in her walk-in closet. Like the rest of the house, Clarke’s bedroom incorporated rustic elements as well as quirky artist touches and some sleek urban accents, since Clarke didn’t like too much rustic—“heavy,” she called it.

“All yours,” Clarke said when she came back in. “There’s a toothbrush on the sink for you and I put towels out.”

“Thanks.” Lexa went to wash up and get ready for bed, and she remembered when she and Clarke and a bunch of friends went to Florida for spring break their junior year and she and Clarke had shared a dingy motel room. There were two beds, but somehow they had ended up in the same one, using the other for their luggage.

Even when Lexa was in law school and Clarke was working on her MFA, they had shared a bed on get-togethers and group trips and it was unspoken and understood that this would happen, unless one or both of them had brought someone they were seeing.

She dried her face and stared at nothing for a few moments. Everything she was feeling now had already been between them, had embedded itself in their connection, had probably been there since the beginning.

Clarke was right. There was nothing to worry about. She put the toothbrush in the ceramic holder on the shelf and then looked at it for a while, because it was next to Clarke’s, and it seemed to signify something a lot bigger than a toothbrush. She hung the hand towel up and went back to Clarke’s room, where she found her sitting up in bed, scrolling on a tablet.

When she saw Lexa, she smiled. “I have a really bad habit of checking email before bed.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one.” She slid under the covers and _God_ everything smelled like Clarke and a lump formed in Lexa’s throat because it was so familiar but also so exciting.

Clarke put her tablet on the bedside table and turned the lamp off and it was like there was something magnetic between them because they settled into each other’s arms quickly and easily, like they’d always been like this.

“This might sound weird, but I’ve missed you,” Clarke said softly. “I don’t even know why or how, but I always feel better when you’re around."

Lexa propped her head on one of her hands so she could look down at her. “It doesn’t sound weird, because I missed you, too.”

Clarke traced patterns on the back of Lexa’s other hand, which rested on her stomach. “All those times we ended up in the same bed—we always ended up like this.” She traced Lexa’s jaw with her fingertips. “And I always missed you when the night ended.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Not the same,” she said with a smile.

“Oh? How’s that?” And she leaned down and kissed her.

“Because you’ll _definitely_ be back.”

Lexa grinned against her lips. “Yes, and I will _definitely_ be doing this, finally.” She kissed her again and it was easy and charged and Clarke pulled her closer and nothing had ever felt as good as finally feeling Clarke against her like this, even with clothes still between them, and even with Clarke’s hands sliding down her back over her T-shirt, her touch was different, with different intent, and God, it was everything.

“I might be addicted to kissing you,” Clarke said after several long, delicious minutes.

“Hell, I _know_ I’m addicted to kissing _you_.”

“Good. Then for sure you’ll be back.” And she smiled against Lexa’s lips and oh, God, her hands were in Lexa’s hair and then Lexa rolled them over so Clarke was on top and oh, God, they fit so well together.

She didn’t know how long they continued kissing and gently, tentatively exploring over their clothing, their hands running down each other’s backs, shoulders, and arms, but she didn’t care that they didn’t go beyond that. She could do this forever.

And when sleep seemed inevitable for both of them, their touches and kisses slowing, Lexa spooned her, still aching pleasantly. “Clarke,” she said softly.

“Hmm?”

“I’m not worried anymore.”

“Me either.” She squeezed Lexa’s hand and snuggled closer (as if that was even possible) and as Lexa drifted to sleep, she knew this was exactly where she needed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking can't with all the feels I have right now...


	10. Leaving the Friend Zone has Perks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. And then Lexa gets a call from work while Clarke gets a tip about something else. And more Clexmas magic ensues.

Clarke groaned when her phone chimed its wakeup alarm and she reached for it, keeping her head under the covers. “Shut up,” she muttered as she turned it off and then lay still for a moment, remembering the night before, and letting a wave of warmth roll through her.

But the bed felt empty and she reached with her other hand, looking for Lexa. Where the hell was she? She sat up and blinked in the morning light then heard footsteps on the stairs and then in the hallway.

“Morning,” Lexa said as she came in, carrying two cups and fuck, her smile. Clarke would never get tired of it and all the different things it conveyed. She’d gotten dressed, too, and damn, those jeans on her were a sight to behold. She had appreciated them the night before, and she did even more now.

“Hi,” Clarke said, and she knew she was grinning like an idiot.

Lexa sat on the bed next to her and handed her one of the cups and she took a sip and sighed with pleasure.

“Perfect,” she said. “And you’re forgiven for not being in bed with me when the alarm went off.”

“Thank God. But I’m pretty sure you’ll let me make it up to you.”

“Hmm. Depends how you do it. What’d you have in mind?”

“Stick around and find out.”

“Definitely.” She gripped the front of Lexa’s tee and pulled her in for a kiss and God, her lips and that devilish little smirk. She was definitely having impure thoughts, and after last night—oh, God. “So how’d you sleep?” Clarke asked after a few moments.

“Really well. You?”

“Mmm. Same.” She kissed her again because finally, she could, and she intended to take advantage of that fact every chance she got.

“What time do you have to be at the gallery?” Lexa asked, mouth against hers.

“I’m opening at nine.”

“Then you have time for breakfast.”

“Sure. What’d you have in mind?”

Lexa grinned. “Come downstairs when you’re ready and find out.”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Nope.”

“This is the best date _ever_.”

Lexa laughed and kissed her. “So is this a continuation of last night’s date or did we just start a new one?”

“Continuation. And I’m pretty sure you need a proper good morning greeting.” She set her cup on the bedside table and did the same with Lexa’s and then pulled her down against her and fuck, even with the blankets partially between them, it was delicious, Lexa’s chest against hers, and good God, she could run her hands over her back and across her shoulders now without having to hide the desire to do it and fuck, it was glorious.

“Lexa,” she said softly after she kissed her a few times, “not to freak you out, but I’m having interesting thoughts about you right now.”

“Just interesting?” She quirked an eyebrow and Clarke remembered the first time she’d seen Lexa do that. It was hot then. It was hotter now.

“Okay, maybe a little…impure.” She stared up at her, searching her gaze for any sign of uncertainty but found instead warmth and mischief and fucking hell, her eyes were so damn green. “Just to make sure, are you okay with me saying something like that? I mean, I know we’re still kind of figuring things out—”

Lexa kissed her and Clarke forgot what she was trying to say. “I’ve been having the same kinds of thoughts about you,” she said after a long, slow burn.

“So…you’re okay with this new frontier kind of thing between us?”

“I’ve had impure thoughts about you before this. It’s not completely a new frontier.” She smiled.

“Does that—are you good with that?”

Her smile shifted to a smirk. “Oh, yeah.”

“Good.” She brushed Lexa’s hair out of her face. “But if you’re not comfortable, talk to me, okay?”

“I will. The same goes for you.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, and Clarke couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t had an undercurrent of electricity between them and now she really wanted to know what happened when they let it spark, let it build into flames without the unspoken restrictions they’d maintained all these years.

Lexa broke the moment with a lopsided grin that was entirely too cute. “Breakfast.” She kissed her again then got up and picked up her coffee cup. “See you downstairs.”

“Lexa.”

She paused in the doorway.

“Thank you.”

She kissed her fingertips and extended them toward Clarke then left and Clarke flopped back on the bed, overcome with feels.

God, was this a serious girlfriend situation? It kind of felt like it.

Was she okay with that?

She rolled the thought around in her head. She wasn’t sure. But she did know that Lexa had always been a part of her adult life and it seemed like a natural development, this deepening intimacy between them. No, she didn’t just want to hit it and move on or treat this like a fuck buddy situation. Lexa was special. _This_ was special.

And also super fucking hot.

She got out of bed and took her coffee to the bathroom because Lexa had brought it to her and okay, it might be a little goofy, doing that, but whatever. Lexa had made it, brought it to her, and she intended to drink it.

Twenty minutes later (much faster than usual), she had dressed in black jeans and a light blue tailored button-down shirt since local media was going to stop by and take a couple of photos of her for a spread they were doing on local artists. This shirt was comfortable, looked good, and brought out her eyes.

She went downstairs into the kitchen where Lexa was talking on the phone while she stood next to the stove where she was cooking what looked suspiciously like an omelette. She looked up when Clarke came in and smiled, eyes lighting up like she hadn’t seen her in much longer than just a bit ago.

“Harper,” Lexa mouthed to her.

Clarke leaned in close. “Hi, Harper,” she said before she gave Lexa a quick kiss and went to refill her coffee cup and it occurred to her that if Lexa hadn’t said anything to Harper about their new situation, she had just basically conveyed it by doing that because here they were together, early in the morning, in Clarke’s kitchen.

“Well, you could tell her yourself,” Lexa said to Harper. “Here’s Clarke.”

She held the phone out to Clarke, who took it.

“Hey. What’s up?” she asked Harper.

“So I was touching base with Lexa to find out if she was going to be in town for Christmas Eve. Because, I said, if that was the case, she was welcome to hang out with me, Monty, Octavia, Lincoln, and possibly you, though I didn’t know what your plans are. And Lexa told me that yes, she was going to be in town for Christmas and holy shit, Clarke. I cannot believe how great this is.” She was doing her excited Harper voice, which was a few decibels below Raven’s, but got the point across just as well.

“Um…what?”

“Oh, my God. You. Lexa. Christmas together. What isn’t perfect about that?”

“So she told you.”

Lexa gave her a look and Clarke air-kissed her.

“She said she was spending Christmas Eve with you and Christmas Day with you and Abby. Using my keen powers of deduction, I determined that there might have been a…shift, if you will. And she’s in your house early this morning. Making you breakfast. A lot of circumstantial evidence, I know, but it does seem to point to Clexa.”

She laughed. “I cannot believe you just said Clexa.”

Lexa chuckled.

“What? This is such great news. I’m so happy for both of you. And now I’ll let you go because I’m sure you have things to do.” Her tone was sly and Clarke smiled.

“Do you want to talk to Lexa again?”

“Nah. But if you do change your minds and you want to hang out with us Christmas Eve, we’ll be at Lincoln and O’s around seven.”

“Thanks, Harper. Hi to Monty.”

“Can I tell him?”

“Of course. It’s not secret. It’s just new.”

“Excellent. And now I’ll definitely let you go.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” She hung up and handed Lexa’s phone back to her, and Lexa slid it into her back pocket and expertly flipped the omelette.

“I guess word is getting out,” Clarke said as she slid her arms around Lexa’s waist from behind and rested her chin on her shoulder, watching her cook and it kind of turned her on, her breasts pressed against Lexa’s back like this. Plus, she had her hair pulled back, which allowed Clarke to easily access her neck.

She smiled. “Yep.”

“You okay with that? Since you’re usually Commander Private about your personal life?”

She chuckled and placed her free hand over Clarke’s. “It’s kind of ridiculous not to say anything, since there’s this whole PDA thing we have going on.”

“True.” She kissed her neck. “And can I just say how fucking awesome it is that you’re making me breakfast?”

“I’m kind of a breakfast fan. Any time of day. It just so happens that today, it’s in the morning.”

Clarke grinned and pulled her closer for a moment before she let go to get plates out. Lexa took one and put the omelette on it then opened the oven and took a pan out that had hashbrowns and another omelette on it and then another of bacon. She loaded the plate with hashbrowns and bacon and handed it to Clarke.

“The table’s set. I’ll be right out.”

Clarke stared at the plate, then at Lexa and then she kissed her because it was kind of an imperative, now, to do that.

“Keep that up and you’re not going to get to the gallery before nine.” Lexa said softly as she pulled away. “Especially looking as good as you do in that shirt.”

“It looks better off.”

“I have no doubt.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows and stared at her for a few moments, seeing in her eyes what she knew was in hers and it struck her, then, how familiar it was to see it, that it wasn’t actually new and instead was now so fucking clear. She kissed her again then picked up her coffee cup and carried that and her plate to the dining room before she was even more tempted to go a bit farther than they had the night before.

But she was sure Lexa would go there with her, too, and heat gathered between her thighs and low in her belly.

Lexa joined her soon after she sat down. “Everything good?”

“ _So_ good. You make the best omelettes.” This one had olives, tomatoes, and cheese and it was perfectly fluffy. She took a bite of hashbrowns. “Actually, you make the best breakfasts, hands down.” She smirked. “Definite perk to moving out of the friend zone.”

Lexa gave her a “really?” look and Clarke laughed and nudged her calf with her foot as she ate.

“I’ve made breakfast for you before,” Lexa said with a smile.

“Yeah, but…this is better.” She shrugged and took another bite of bacon.

Lexa chuckled. “Agree.”

“See? Leaving the friend zone has perks.”

“So many.” Lexa reached over and squeezed her hand and Clarke wished breakfast could go on for hours.

“Still no meetings in DC today?”

“I checked this morning. I’m all clear. They’re leaving me alone until after Christmas.”

“That’s all awesome, but you realize I don’t completely trust your overlords to let me have you all to myself.” She took another bite of omelette. “So if they call you, I expect you to let me talk to them.”

“Done.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “That was easier than I thought,” she teased.

“Where you’re concerned, yes. And I also would like to hear what you say to get me out of work.”

She snorted. “Please. I can talk anybody out of anything.”

“I know. And _into_ anything, too.” She smiled as she picked up her cup and Clarke ended up staring at her lips and then at her eyes and God, Lexa’s expression—

Clarke set her fork down and moved her chair closer because it was absolutely imperative that she kiss her right now so she did and was it normal to make out over breakfast like this?

She didn’t care, and pretty soon they were both breathing heavily until Clarke slowly pulled away. “I seriously cannot get enough of kissing you,” she said softly. “Is that normal, do you think, when you leave the friend zone?”

“It is for us.”

“Good answer.”

And Lexa grinned and kissed her again but pulled away sooner than Clarke would have liked. “Before you distract me more, there’s a little more coffee left.”

“Better bring it out here, then,” Clarke said. “Can’t have that go to waste.”

Lexa went to get it and Clarke finished the last bite of hashbrowns. There was about a half-cup of coffee left, and Lexa split it between them then sat down and they finished breakfast then cleaned the table, laughing, talking, and sharing brief touches and kisses and Clarke loved how easy it was, to be both friends and more, loved how they seemed to fit even better together now than they ever had.

She filed that thought away for further examination later and got three pieces of pizza out of the fridge and wrapped them up in foil and handed the packet to Lexa.

“For getting you through whatever things you have to do today,” she said and Lexa’s expression was positively goofy. “And I have to go,” Clarke added with a sigh.

She nodded. “What time did you want to go to dinner?”

“I’m closing up at six. Want me to meet you at the pub after that?”

“No, I’ll come by the gallery and we can go together.”

“Perfect.” She walked her to the door and waited as Lexa put her shoes and coat on. “Got everything?”

She smiled, warmth in her eyes. “Yeah,” she said, and Clarke knew she was talking about a lot more than a hat, gloves, and leftover pizza. It made her a little giddy.

“Then I’ll see you later.” And this kiss was another slow exploration that Clarke finally ended because she was already running late but fuck, kissing Lexa was clearly her new life’s purpose.

“Later,” Lexa said with a sweet little smile and Clarke barely managed to unlock the door before she kissed her again.

“Hope you have a good day,” Clarke said as she pulled away, aching in all kinds of places.

“Same to you.”

Clarke watched as she walked to her rental car in the crisp morning light and she waved as Lexa pulled away from the curb and God, she wanted a whole hell of a lot more mornings like this.

She closed the door and leaned against it for a few moments, smiling so wide it practically hurt, then went to finish getting ready to go, Lexa foremost in her thoughts.

###

Lexa parked on the street at Kristen’s and got out, still smiling. Her phone chimed with a text message and she checked it before she started walking.

_you just left a few minutes ago and I miss you already_

She read it again and everything was feels right now. _I’m on countdown ’til I see you again_ , she texted back. She put her phone away then walked up the driveway to the carriage house carrying the pizza Clarke had given her.

Once in the apartment, she put the pizza away when she got another text message, this one from Niylah.

_Coffee and croissants at the big house if you’re interested. [smile emoji]_

_Sure_. _Be right down_ , she texted back because she wasn’t ready to settle in to the day and start working. She had way too many excellent thoughts about Clarke circulating through her brain and she was still riding a high in that regard and the last thing she really wanted to do was slog through work emails and documents.

So back down the stairs she went to the main house and she practically bounded up the steps to the back deck where she knocked on the door.

“Hi,” Niylah said when she opened the door. “C’mon in.”

“Morning. Don’t you have to be at the café today?” Lexa asked as she took her coat off and set it on the washer near the back door.

“A little later. So…coffee, croissant, or both?”

“Coffee for sure,” she said as she followed Niylah into the huge kitchen, decorated with bright colors and whimsical little touches like the little ceramic fairy creatures on the counters. It smelled like coffee and fresh bread. “I ate breakfast already, but I cannot say no to your croissants.”

Niylah laughed. “There’s plenty of both. Kristen already went to work, so we can eat the rest.” She poured Lexa a cup of coffee from a French press. “Cream’s in the fridge, sugar’s on the table.” She pointed at the 50s diner-style table nearby that also held a small white box of croissants.

“Thanks.” Lexa poured half-and-half from the carton in the fridge into her cup then sat down at the table. She took one of the paper napkins from the stack nearby and put one of the croissants on it.

Niylah sat down, too, with a cup of coffee. A big yellow cat strolled in and wound itself around Lexa’s legs.

“Hey, Paddy,” she said as she scratched his head. “Thanks,” she said to Niylah. “For coffee and croissants and also for helping out with my Clarke plot.” Paddy flopped down on the floor under the table. He was more like a dog in some ways.

“You’re more than welcome.” She paused. “So…how’s that going?”

Lexa grinned and a blush heated her cheeks.

“I see,” Niylah said with an answering smile. “Care to elaborate?” She took a croissant out of the box and set it on a napkin.

“Well…Clarke actually had her own Secret Santa thing going.” She filled her in on what had happened after the art show and showed her the photo of the puzzle card and Niylah’s smile only widened.

“So—she was on her way to the gazebo but then got worried because you didn’t answer her call and was going to find you?”

“Yeah.”

“And you were running around in the snow trying to find her.”

“Pretty much.” She would have run around in it barefoot that night if she had to.

Niylah tore a piece of croissant off and ate it, nodding thoughtfully. “So the two of you, completely independently of each other, came up with separate Secret Santa plots to help reveal your true feelings for each other.”

“That’s about right.”

Niylah nodded again. “Well, clearly, it was time.”

“Feels like it.” And another wave of heat rushed down her thighs as she remembered Clarke telling her to just kiss her already so she did and it was like her entire world realigned itself.

“And you had dinner last night. Your first date as something more than friends.” She raised an eyebrow and waited for her to respond.

“Yes.” And she bit her lip as she smiled, remembering.

“You have the biggest shit-eating grin right now.”

“Right? I’m—I don’t know what the hell I’m doing but it feels amazing.”

“Of course you know what you’re doing,” she said with a scoff.

“I really don’t. I mean, I’ve known Clarke for years, but not like this.”

“No, but you wanted to.”

Lexa started to respond then stopped because she was right. “But that still doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing.”

“Lexa, who the hell does when it comes to matters of the heart? All we can do is trust our instincts and choose whether we’re diving in or sailing away.”

“Are you about to make a Clexa statement?”

She laughed. “Busted. But that was a good setup for a shipping comment, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, actually. It was.”

Paddy meowed plaintively and emerged from under the table.

“There’s food in your bowl, your highness,” Niylah said, but he couldn’t be bothered and left the kitchen.

“Anyway,” Niylah said, “you _do_ know what you’re doing, because you wouldn’t have admitted your feelings to her if you didn’t. You were willing to dive in. So was she.” She shrugged and picked up the last bit of croissant from her napkin. “You already have a foundation between you, and that’s years of being friends and being supportive of each other and getting to know not only each other but yourselves. This is—” she pointed at Lexa with the piece of croissant, “a most legit ship.” And then she ate the piece.

Lexa stared at her for a beat then laughed. “Can that be my memoir title?”

“Definitely. Thank me in the acknowledgements. Want more coffee?”

“Nah, thanks. I had a couple cups before this.”

“So when do you see her again?”

“This evening. And it’s weird, because we’re basically doing things that we’ve done in the past but…it feels so different, now.”

“Because your intentions have changed. How does it feel, now?”

Lexa stared into her cup, at the last bit of coffee. “Familiar but new. It’s really exciting but also really comfortable.” She sighed and smiled. “I can’t explain it better than that.” She finished the coffee. “Upshot? I’m really, really into her.”

“Newsflash. We’ve all known this for years. And I’m so, so happy for you. Will you be here for Christmas?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“And I’m guessing you’ll be spending it with Clarke.”

Lexa flushed again. God, she was doing that a lot lately.

Niylah laughed. “Good. I hope it’s full of a bunch more Christmas magic.”

Lexa finished the last bit of coffee and stood. “Thanks. Are you and Kristen doing anything?”

“This year we’re staying here. And I’m really looking forward to it.” She got up, too, and took Lexa’s cup as well as her own and set them by the sink. “When are you going back to New York?”

“The twenty-sixth.” And she hated that she was.

“Don’t worry. It’s not that far.”

“I know. There’s that, at least.”

Niylah walked with Lexa to the back door. “Focus on right now.”

Lexa put her coat on and nodded. “Definitely. And…just—thanks again.”

She smiled and gave her a quick hug. “Any time. And keep me in mind for future undercover ops like that one.”

“Will do.” She opened the back door. “See you around.”

Niylah waved and closed the door behind her and Lexa went back upstairs to the apartment. Once inside, she showered and put on her last pair of clean jeans, a long-sleeved tee, and a baggy dark sweater. Fortunately, Kristen supplied a laundry basket with the apartment and Lexa loaded it up and went back downstairs and through a side entrance into the garage, where the small laundry room for guests was available. Kristen stocked it with detergent and fabric softener sheets, so Lexa was set.

She loaded the washer and went back upstairs and got her laptop and some files situated at the table, which she preferred over the small desk. The TV offered streaming options, so she selected some mellow music for background noise and stood for a bit, thinking about the night before when she and Clarke had danced in her studio and Jesus, the sparks racing down her thighs right now. She forced herself to focus on work because the more she got done today, the less she’d have to worry about on the 26th.

Thirty minutes later she went down to put her clothes in the dryer and get the last small load into the washer. When she got back upstairs her phone was ringing and she lunged for it, noting that it was from one of her work colleagues. Shit. Please don’t be calling her down to DC today…

“Hey, Kelly,” she answered. “Happy pre-Christmas Eve.”

She laughed. “Same to you.”

“And as good as it is to hear from you, I’m really hoping you’re not calling to tell me to go to DC right now.”

“No. Not today, anyway. But definitely later.”

“Okay, hold on. Let me get my calendar open.” She clicked on her desktop. “All right. What are the dates you’re looking at?” And hopefully, they’d be soon so she could see Clarke again.

“How about from the beginning of March on?”

Lexa frowned, confused. “Did the Danbury trial get moved up?” Because that was the only thing she could think of that was going on in DC that would take up more than a couple of weeks.

“Nope. _You_ did.”

“What?”

“Your relocation proposal. We talked about it and I was going to tell you that it was all good for August, but we found out that we can do it sooner, since Jarissa wants to start in New York mid-February. Turns out she’s ready to go, too.”

Lexa stood up and ran a hand through her hair, trying to keep herself from celebrating. “You’re serious?”

“Completely. Doesn’t give you as much time as you thought, but we can probably juggle a little if this isn’t enough—”

“No, it’s good.” She was grinning now, and biting her lip to keep from yelling.

“We’ll talk about the details when I see you next. When are you back in New York?”

“I’ll be in the office the morning of the twenty-seventh.”

“Perfect. Let’s talk that afternoon. Do you have time?”

“Yes.” She would fucking make the time even if she didn’t.

“Great. Anyway, wanted to tell you the news before the holiday.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it. And I’ll see you back in the office.”

“All right. Take care.”

“You, too. Have a good holiday.”

“You as well. Bye.” She hung up and Lexa stood staring at the phone. And then she was bouncing around the room, both hands in the air, whooping like she’d just scored a touchdown to win a game in the final seconds.

And then she stopped as the ramifications of relocation sank in. She needed to find a place to live much sooner than she had planned. And would it be too weird to find a place in Polis, as she had originally intended? She had planned to do it and then see if there was a chance for her and Clarke to move beyond friends, but she’d moved that timeline up and now with that happening, maybe it was a bad idea to move to Polis because wouldn’t that put too much pressure on Clarke and on whatever this was between them? Especially if it didn’t work out.

Not a thought she wanted to entertain, but the alternative to that was—

She sat back down. The alternative to a relationship not working out was a relationship working out. Was she ready for _that_?

Maybe she should rent a place in DC first and see what happened with her and Clarke. That way, if it didn’t work out, then at least they wouldn’t have to be in the same place as they figured out how to make things work as friends again.

And fuck, that thought was sucking major ass.

Or she could rent a place in Polis and if things didn’t work out, just move to DC. Or somewhere else. Los Angeles, for example, if things didn’t work out. That, at least, would get her away from the pain of seeing Clarke if this didn’t go anywhere.

“Fuck,” she said. Stop fucking jinxing it. This was part of things shifting, was relocating, and she wanted to come back to somewhere that felt like home and this was it. And if she wasn’t supposed to be in Polis, then there wouldn’t be anywhere to live that would work out, and she’d know then to look in DC.

She texted Niylah. _So on the off chance that you or Kristen knows of any rentals available in Polis around Feb./Mar., would you let me know?_ She didn’t expect to hear back for a while, since things were probably busy at the café and Niylah often got busy in the back with baking, especially this time of year.

So she focused again on work then went down to get her clothes out of the dryer and put the others in and when she got back upstairs, she folded the clean clothes then made a couple of phone calls to fellow attorneys, scheduled some meetings for when she was back in New York, then went to get the other load of clothing out of the dryer.

After those were folded, she put the packet of pizza, foil and all, into the small oven in the kitchenette, and it made her smile because she remembered making it with Clarke and if she could get a place in Polis, they could do that a whole lot more—

Stop. That was getting way ahead of herself.

Wasn’t it?

Fuck.

She focused on a brief she was working on, and about fifteen minutes later she munched on a piece of pizza as she went back through the brief then sent it to a colleague to check before she got a can of sparkling water out of the fridge. As she took a drink her phone rang and she checked it. Niylah.

“Hey,” she answered. “You could’ve just texted back.”

“And miss the story behind that rather cryptic text? What the hell, Lexa?”

“Remember I mentioned that I had some things in motion? This is one of them. I requested relocation to the DC area and I was hoping for August, but work just called and said they can do it sooner.”

“So when would you be moving to this area?”

“Around the beginning of March. I’ll be looking in DC, too, but Polis is my first choice. And yes, it was my first choice before things changed with Clarke and no, I haven’t actually told her that I’ll be moving much sooner than I thought.”

She laughed. “Worried about being a U-Haul lesbian?”

“Kind of.”

“Don’t. If you and Clarke had just met, then yes, worry. But you’ve been wanting to come back to this area for a while, now, and you’d be doing it anyway, whether things had changed with Clarke or not.”

“I keep telling myself that, but isn’t it kind of weird? Maybe needy or codependent?”

“Oh, my God. No. This is what happens when all the right things click into place. And speaking of places, I’ll tap my networks and we’ll find you something. Any specifics?”

“Preferably at least a three-bedroom, two bath so I can have an office and a guestroom situation.”

“House or apartment?”

“House would be good, but an apartment would work.”

“Buy or rent?”

“Rent, at first.” Unless something really cool for sale came up, but she didn’t voice that. On short notice like this, it was better to go with a rental and then maybe look around for something to buy.

“All right. Got it. I’ll see what we can find out.”

“Thanks, Niylah. I really appreciate this.”

“Polis crew, woman. Also, are you planning to tell Clarke this exciting news?”

“Yeah. Tonight at dinner.”

“Aww. That’s romantic. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. Got a bunch of people in here wanting coffee.”

“Imagine that. Later.”

“Bye.”

Lexa hung up and checked the time. She had another couple of phone calls to make which shouldn’t take too long and then it would be nearly three, which gave her some time to work on a couple of other things. But when she sat down all she wanted to do was call Clarke.

Would it freak her out, to tell her that she was moving to Polis?

But Clarke should know. And if Lexa told her now, then Clarke could think about it for a bit and maybe if she was a little nervous about it Lexa would then focus on closer to the DC area for a place to live rather than Polis and after a few months—if they were still together—she could find a place in Polis.

And she was way overanalyzing this. Maybe.

She sighed and set her phone aside. She’d tell Clarke at dinner and though the thought gave her a little bit of trepidation, she was still really fucking excited to be coming home. And maybe, just maybe, this thing with Clarke was part of that magic.

###

Clarke grabbed a salad at Jimmie’s for lunch and took it back to the gallery. A lot of foot traffic today and she’d made some sales. Most of the paintings she’d sold at the show had been claimed. She could see the tower from the counter and she smiled because it wasn’t leaving Polis after all, though she kind of wished it were, so Lexa would have it in her apartment in New York and think of her every time she looked at it.

But she also liked that Lexa would be coming down to visit, and hopefully she’d do that quite a bit.

Because Clarke selfishly needed a whole lot more Lexa in her life. More than she’d gotten in college, and more than she was getting now, for sure. And yes, that felt like future talk and interest in a relationship, but it felt so right and so good. They'd known each other for years, after all. So goddamn, she wished Lexa lived in Polis.

Her phone rang.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hi. Got your text. Can you talk right now?”

“Yeah. Just eating a salad. Busy morning, but kind of mellow right now.”

“Okay. So what’s going on?”

“Just wanted to let you know that Lexa is staying in town through Christmas and I wanted to check to make sure you’re still good with us coming down for Christmas Day.” Did she sound nonchalant? She thought she did. But her mom picked up on the smallest things.

“That’s _great_ news. I was hoping she’d be able to stay. Yes. Come down.”

“Awesome. So we’ll just come down at two, then?”

“Perfect. We’ll eat and do the usual hanging out and you can either go back to Polis after or stay the night. Whatever works. When does Lexa have to go back to New York?”

“The twenty-sixth. We’ve already talked about how that’s going to work, and we’re keeping an eye on the weather, too. If it gets bad, she might drive separately and we’ll stay the night—or she’ll go to Raven and Anya’s—and she can drop the car off the next day and head home.”

“Why wouldn’t she just stay with you at my house?”

Oh, shit. “Um…”

“Maybe I’m reading too much into things, but I definitely got a different vibe off you two at breakfast.”

“What vibe?” And then she fought a laugh because she remembered the jokes she’d exchanged with Lexa about telling her mom. This totally felt like high school.

“You sound like I just caught you sneaking out of the house,” Abby said, but she was laughing.

“Oh, my God, Mom. Really?”

“So did I?”

“What?”

“Catch you.”

“I’m a grown-ass woman. I only sneak out of my _own_ house, now.”

“All right, fair point on sneaking out of the house. More to my other point, what’s going on with Lexa?” She was totally teasing her, now. It was in her tone.

“Fine. Yes. Busted. We—something shifted.”

Pause. Then, “And?” She sounded cautious.

“And we’re figuring out how that works.”

“Go on.”

“Oh, my God, you’re as nosy as Raven,” she said in a long-suffering tone.

“It’s because I care, honey. I’ve known Lexa for years and honestly, I could never figure out why you two never dated.”

“Wait. What?”

She laughed again. “Clarke, it’s obvious the two of you have had feelings for each other for years. It only makes sense that you’d both finally decide to do something about it. So how long have you been more than friends?”

“Um. Officially? Two days. Give or take.”

“Wait. Two days?” She sounded incredulous.

“Yeah. We admitted our feelings the night of my show. Technically _after_ the show. And our first official date was last night. Our second is tonight.” And oh, the sparks that thought sent cascading through her chest.

“So at breakfast—”

“It was still brand new. I mean, it still _is_ , but it was _super_ new at breakfast. And explain what you mean by ‘different vibe’.”

Abby chuckled. “There was a difference in how you interacted. You’ve always been touchy-feely with each other, but it was different this time. Longer touches. Longer looks. A certain level of intimacy that I hadn’t seen the two of you express before.”

A blush flared across her cheeks.

“Or maybe that’s the wrong way to describe it. Maybe it was a recognition between you that in the past it seemed you both tried to hide from each other and probably from yourselves.”

“Okay, now you’re just getting way too deep,” she said with a laugh. “So the situation is this. Yes, we told each other how we feel and we’re now on this new trajectory.”

“Do I get the story behind the story?”

Clarke chuckled. “We’ll tell you when we see you. I’d kind of like Lexa there for it.”

“Sounds good. Overall, how do you feel about this shift?”

“Fucking amazing.”

She laughed. “I can hear it in your voice. And I’m really happy for you. I think the two of you are a great match.”

“Um, we just started officially seeing each other.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ve been a great match for years. It’s just that now you both see it and I’m really excited for both of you.”

“Wow. So does this mean we have your blessing?” Clarke teased, which made Abby laugh again.

“I have always liked Lexa and I’ve always thought the two of you were good for each other. So I’m going to have champagne tonight to toast these new circumstances. And, damn. I have to run. See you in a couple days. Call or text if you need anything.”

“Okay. Same to you. Let me know if there’s something specific you want me to bring.”

“Will do. And Clarke, really. I’m so very happy for the two of you. I hope it works out. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye.” She hung up, set her phone down, and grinned then finished her salad. The next hour saw several people come in, including local media for the photos. They did a few inside and some outside. Rosie from next door joined in, too, which Clarke thought would be kind of cute, to have two artists who owned adjoining galleries hanging out together.

After the press left, a few more people stopped in, one of whom had been at her show but hadn’t bought anything. Clarke chatted her up for a bit and the woman left her card because she wanted to commission a piece on behalf of an arts foundation in Chicago and could she set up an appointment for a conference call after the new year?

Damn right.

After that was done, she started getting organized for after Christmas when her assistant and part-time help would be around again.

The front door opened and a woman in a long black coat came in. “Hi, Clarke,” she said.

“Hey, Deb,” she said, but it was hard, sometimes, to call her that because she looked a lot like Regina from _Once Upon a Time_. Except Deb was generally always smiling and cracking jokes. “How’s business?” Clarke asked. “Selling a lot of houses?”

“If only. Things slow down this time of year. Everybody’s too busy doing holiday things or buying your art, apparently. That was a wonderful show you did.”

“I’m so glad you could come. And thanks for helping spread the word.”

“I love Polis’s art scene, and I love that you’re in it.” She took off her gloves.

“I’ve got the painting you bought all wrapped up,” Clarke said. “Let me get it.” She went into the back and brought out one of her smaller ones, which was about two feet by two feet. “Where are you parked?” She asked.

“Right out front.”

“I’ll load it up.” She walked the painting outside and Deb rushed ahead of her to open the back of her SUV.

“I’ve got some foam back here. Just put it on that.”

Clarke did and Deb then covered it with a blanket then shut the back

“Thank you.”

“Sure.”

“Do you think you’ll do another show?”

“Not for a while. I have to finish a few more pieces up and I’m also gong to be doing a teaching fellowship at Arkadia University for a few weeks this semester.”

“Oh, that’s marvelous. Congratulations. We’ll be able to say we knew you when.”

Clarke laughed, a little embarrassed. “Not sure about _that_. I mean, this is home. I don’t expect I want to base anywhere else.”

“I hope that never changes.” She went around to the driver’s side and Clarke turned to go back inside.

“Oh, Clarke—”

“Yeah?”

“I almost forgot. I have a rental property opening up in mid-February.”

“Okay. Do you want me to tap my networks?”

“If you would, please. I’ve been letting some others know. It’s a house we’re currently doing some renovation on, about three blocks from yours, on Orchard.”

“Oh, I know that house. It was on the market last year. I thought it sold.”

Deb came around the front of her car back to the sidewalk. “No. The deal fell through and I took it as a sign not to sell.” She shrugged. “I have a soft spot for it. It’s one of those historic bungalows with a lot of charm, but it needed some TLC and I’d really just prefer to put a renter in there who I can trust who will keep an eye on it while I think about what I want to do with it. Right now we’re upgrading electrical. The plumbing’s in good shape, fortunately. It has a nicely re-done kitchen and the bathrooms have been upgraded, too.”

“Is it on the historic register?”

“No, which is both good and bad. It probably could be, since it’s within the historic district. We haven’t applied for it, but we are doing work within those parameters in case some day someone wants to try to get it on the register.”

“Sounds great. What’s the bedroom count?”

“Two up, two down. Two bathrooms, one downstairs and one up. The downstairs is a three-quarter while the upstairs is a full. I’m not adverse to pets, but there’s a deposit. I’ll cut the right person or people a deal on rent if they come from you.”

“Wow. That’s cool of you. I’ll check my networks right away.” She immediately started thinking about who the hell could take this deal and goddammit, why couldn’t it be Lexa? Too bad it was such short notice.

“Excellent. Feel free to provide my cell number to anyone you think would be a good fit.” She handed her a business card.

“Will do. Hopefully we can find someone for it soon.”

“Thanks, Clarke. Merry Christmas.”

“You, too.”

She went back to her car and got in and Clarke went back inside, tapping Deb’s card against her thigh as she walked, wishing Lexa was ready to move.

But that might be weird. Even though Lexa wanted to come back to Polis, maybe she wasn’t ready to live so close as they worked on moving from friends to more.

She put Deb’s card in one of the pockets of her bag then stood, thinking.

Was _she_ ready for Lexa to be so close? After all, they had just started dating. What if it didn’t work out?

That thought made her stomach hurt, but she had to consider it. So…what if it didn’t work out between them and Lexa was living in Polis? In that shitty scenario, Lexa would probably move to DC while they tried to get their footing again as friends because there was no way Clarke could go without Lexa in her life in some way. It would be really fucking painful if it didn’t work out, but it wasn’t the end of the world for either of them and they were both adults and would deal with it as best they could.

It occurred to her as she contemplated this sucky thought that she couldn’t imagine why things between them wouldn’t work out. She tried, but nothing came up. She couldn’t even envision herself without Lexa in this new space, and it didn’t feel remotely weird that she was perfectly fine with that.

More than fine. It was deep and warm and safe and felt completely, totally right. And it would be amazing if she lived in Polis. Not that Clarke was Polis-centric.

Okay, she was.

She smiled and took some cash out of her bag and grabbed her coat and keys and put the “Be Right Back” sign up. Before she crossed the street she went next door to Rosie’s gallery.

“Hey, you want a coffee? I’m going to Niylah’s.”

“A decaf Americano, medium. Thanks, Clarke. Let me get you some money—”

“Don’t worry about it. Be right back.” She went across the street and into French Pressed, where Eric was wiping down some of the tables. Two other tables were occupied, one by a couple of people Clarke didn’t recognize and another by a woman working on a laptop.

“Hey, Clarke. What can I get you?” Eric asked.

“Hi. I need two medium Americanos, one of them decaf.”

“Sure thing.” He went back behind the counter.

“Is Niylah around?” Clarke asked.

“I am,” she said as she emerged from the back. She wore an apron and from the smell, she’d been baking. Hot, fresh pastry goodness. “Hi. How are things at the gallery?”

“Good. Most people have picked up the paintings they bought at the show and I’ve had a few sales today.”

“Great news. Want a croissant?”

“Temptress. Yes.”

She laughed. “I’ve got fresh ones ready.”

“Oh, my _God_. Hook me up with one. And one for Rosie, too.”

“Chocolate or plain?”

“Plain.”

Niylah went into the back and Clarke took some cash out of her coat pocket.

“Here you go.” Niylah reappeared and set a small white paper bag on the counter.

Clarke smiled. “Thanks. How much?”

“Croissants are on me. Four seventy-two for the coffees.”

“You sure?”

“Definitely.”

“Coffees are up, Clarke,” Eric announced.

“Thanks.” Clarke paid Niylah with a five and she put the leftover change and an extra two dollars in the tip jar.

“So,” Niylah said. “I saw Lexa this morning.”

Clarke’s smile widened.

“She told me the story—about what happened after your show. I’m really happy for both of you.”

“Well, you helped.”

“Maybe. I think the two of you would have found a way regardless.”

“I—” she paused. “I like thinking that.” She picked up the little carrying tray Eric had put the two coffees in and squeezed the croissant bag in, too.

“See you later,” Niylah said.

“Yeah—oh, I almost forgot. Deb Perez stopped by to pick up her painting that she bought at the show, but she also wanted to spread the word that she’s got a property coming open to rent, mid-February.”

“Cool. Where?”

“It’s that house on Orchard she tried to sell last year.”

Niylah’s eyes widened. “The one a couple blocks from you?”

“Yeah. They’re doing some work on it right now, but she said if I know anybody to send them her way.”

“How come she doesn’t want to just try to sell it again?”

Clarke shrugged. “She says she likes the house but wants to figure out what she wants to do with it and she’d like somebody responsible in there for a bit while she thinks about it. Pets okay, with deposit.” And why the hell was Niylah smiling like that? “Anyway, Deb said to call her cell. You have that number, right?”

“Oh, yeah. She and Kristen are still practically BFFs after Kristen bought the house from her.”

“That’s what I thought. So, spread the word. Deb said she’d cut the tenant a deal if the recommendation came from me. I assume that’s Polis crew by extension.”

“Will do. Later.”

“Yeah.” She waved and left, thinking about how that house would be perfect for Lexa. But when Lexa was ready to move—if she decided she was going to do that—at least Deb could be a contact to help her find a place. And _God_ only a couple more hours before they had dinner and then they’d have the evening and night and an entire day together. _That_ was some Christmas magic right there.

She dropped Rosie’s coffee and croissant off then went back to her gallery, determined to get the rest of her paperwork done before Lexa showed up because once she did, that’s where Clarke’s focus would be.

Not that she minded.

She set her coffee down, took a bite of croissant and got to work.

###

_Call me ASAP._

Lexa frowned but called Niylah.

“Hey, so, write this number down,” Niylah said when she answered.

“Um…hold on.” She grabbed her pen and turned one of the pieces of paper from one of her files over to the blank back side. “Okay.”

Niylah recited the phone number. “Got it?”

“Yeah. But—”

“That’s Deb Perez. She’s a realtor here in town. Kristen bought her house from her and Clarke just came by for coffee and says Deb’s looking to rent one of her houses out.”

“Okay. Details?”

“Walk over and see it. It’s about two blocks from Clarke’s house. It’s currently having some work done, but it’ll be ready mid-February.”

“Wait. Clarke told you this?”

“Don’t worry, she doesn’t know you’re looking and I didn’t tell her. That’s on you, still.”

“So some realtor just happened to contact Clarke—”

“She bought a painting at the show. She was picking it up. Christmas magic, Lexa. Call Deb right now and tell her you’ll meet her there, that you want to see the house.”

“All right. What’s the address?”

Niylah gave it to her. “Do it now. Houses in this neighborhood go fast. Let me know how it goes. Bye.”

She hung up and Lexa stared at her phone for a few seconds. What the actual fuck was happening? She dialed the number Niylah had provided then chewed her lip while she waited.

“Hi, Deb Perez.”

“Hi, there. My name’s Lexa Woods and Clarke Griffin and Niylah Summers said that you have a house for rent.”

Deb laughed, a rich, mellow sound. “Well. Clarke’s networks certainly work fast. I’m actually at the house right now. Can you get here in about fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll be there in five.”

“Excellent. Do you have the address?”

“Yes.”

“See you then.”

“Bye.” She hung up and got her Timberlands on then grabbed her coat, checkbook, phone, and keys and was out the door and halfway down the steps before she realized she’d forgotten to lock the door. She jerked around, ran back up, entered the code, then barreled back down and ran to the car, the address Niylah had given her burned into her brain.

She knew that address from her college days. She’d lived in a duplex not far from it on the same street when she was a senior. Her heartbeat sped up more from excitement than exertion as she drove the six blocks to the house and parked in front, behind a black SUV. A dark-haired woman in a long black coat was standing on the front porch, talking on the phone. And what a porch. An awesome covered porch, part of an awesome historic bungalow-style house. She had always admired this porch.

A couple of pickup trucks were parked along the curb, too, and the front door was open and Lexa could hear a power saw inside the house as she walked toward the porch. She waved at the woman on the phone, who she assumed was Deb and who actually looked familiar.

The woman held up a finger, then ended the call. “Hi,” she said. “Lexa?”

“Yes.” She shook her hand.

“I’m Deb. And you look familiar.”

“So do you. I’m a friend of Clarke’s. We went to college together here in Polis.”

“Oh, of course. And then you went to law school after that. We’ve met.”

“Oh, wait—I remember now. You’re a friend of Echo’s and you majored in marketing. We met at that party senior year right before Christmas break. We were all at Echo’s.”

She laughed. “Small world. So. Law school?”

“Yes, and I’m now an attorney with the ACLU, currently based in New York but I just found out that I’m able to relocate to the DC-area office a lot sooner than I thought and I’m looking in Polis first.”

“Then this could work out for both of us. Come on in. Excuse the mess. It’ll be all put together soon.”

Lexa followed her inside and holy shit, it was perfect. Even in the state of construction clutter and with a bunch of work guys moving around, it was exactly what she was looking for. Wood floors, great light—guest bedroom and bathroom downstairs with an extra bedroom for storage or working out or whatever.

“The kitchen’s been updated, as have the bathrooms. The plumbing’s good, but we’re updating the electrical to meet current standards. Come on upstairs.”

Lexa followed her, thinking that the staircase—dark wood with a beautiful banister—was reminiscent of Clarke’s.

“Two bedrooms up here. One I consider the master, since it’s pretty big and has great walk-in closets. Full bath up here.” She moved aside so Lexa could explore and take photos, something she’d been doing since she entered. The bedroom at the back of the second floor looked out over the back yard and Lexa immediately decided it would be her home office.

“The back yard is completely fenced. It’s a six-foot privacy fence. I’m not adverse to pets, but there is a deposit.”

“I don’t currently have any.”

“Well, if that changes, we can talk about it. Detached garage. It hasn’t been updated, but there’s some room for storage and it locks, so you can put bikes and yard tools and whatever else inside. Come on. We’ll go through the back yard.”

Lexa followed her back through the kitchen onto a back deck that had seen better days, but it was still sturdy.

“Once the weather warms up, I’m going to have the deck repaired and stained. Probably around May. If you’re here, we can make arrangements for that.”

“Definitely.” They went through a gate to the driveway that led to the garage, which was smaller than Clarke’s, but relatively clean inside, with a concrete floor and an automatic garage door.

“Nice,” Lexa said. “And room for a car.”

“Exactly.” Deb locked the garage’s side door. “Anyway, that’s the house. I’m looking for a year lease, beginning March First, after which I’m not sure what I plan to do. I may end up selling, but for a year, at least, you don’t need to worry about that.” She smiled. “And maybe you’ll love it so much you’ll be the one to buy it.”

Lexa smiled back, liking how Deb already assumed she was going to take it. She wasn’t wrong. “I love it. I’m in.”

Deb raised her eyebrows. “When would you be in town?”

“The last half of February. I don’t have to move in until the beginning of March if it’s easier on you, though.”

“That will work, but I may be able to get you in before the beginning of March, depending on how the work goes.”

“Sounds great. Do you have an application form on hand? Or I can go to the main office and take care of that. What’s the deposit?”

“One month’s rent plus five hundred dollar damage deposit.”

“Done. Check or…?”

“A check’s fine. Come on over to my car and fill out an application form. Which, I’ll have you know, I use primarily for credit checks and to make sure I have your contact information on file. Not because I’m trying to sell your information to Google.”

Lexa laughed. “Good to know.” She followed her to the curb, and Deb got a clipboard out of her car and Lexa filled out the application form then wrote a check.

“How long are you in town?” Deb asked as she put the form and the check into her laptop bag.

“The morning of the twenty-sixth. I’ll probably go back to DC around eleven to catch a train.”

“That’s Sunday. Do you have time to come by my office and sign a lease before then?”

“Sure. When?”

“How about tomorrow?”

Lexa raised her eyebrows. “You’re actually working on Christmas Eve?”

She laughed. “A lot of people do.”

“What time works for you?”

“Text me around nine and I’ll let you know.” She handed her a business card.

“Sounds great.”

Deb grinned. “Well. This just might be the fastest I’ve ever rented a property.”

“Glad I could help. Also, can I ask you a question?”

“As long as I don’t have to tell you where the bodies are buried, yes.”

“As long as it’s not this back yard, we’re all good, then.”

She laughed. “What’s the question?”

“The rent seems…kind of low for this area.”

“It is. That’s the Clarke discount, along with a Lexa discount.”

She stared at her.

“I remember you from college, and Clarke talks about you quite a bit, plus your name comes up in Echo’s circles. You’ve stayed in touch with her, Clarke, and a lot of people from college, which tells me you cherish your roots and your friends and that’s exactly the kind of person I want in one of my fave properties.”

“I—thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Okay, so, call or text if anything comes up.”

“I will. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow to sign the lease.”

“Definitely. Good to re-connect with you.”

“It sure is. And now I need to go check with—” she motioned at the house, an apologetic expression on her face.

“Yeah. Of course. Also, I’ll let Clarke know she doesn’t need to keep telling people the house is available.”

Deb smiled. “Yeah, because it seems her networks are much more powerful than mere mortal networks. See you in a bit.”

“Bye.” She went back to her car as Deb went inside, but before Lexa got in, she stood and stared for a while at the house, and her heart sped up. What the fucking fuck? How was any of this possible? She texted Niylah.

_Rented it!_

The phone rang before she put it away.

“Are you serious?” Niylah said, and Lexa heard the excitement in her tone.

“Yep. Turns out Deb and I remembered each other from college. She’s a friend of Echo’s. We met senior year.”

“Oh, my God. That’s right. Deb was always kind of in and out of Polis crew.”

“Polis crew adjacent. Maybe honorary crew.”

“For renting you that house, hell, yes. Did you tell Clarke?”

“No. Not until I see her, which is in about forty-five minutes.”

“What the hell are you still talking to _me_ for? Go get dressed for dinner. We’ll talk later. Bye.”

Lexa laughed and hung up then drove back to the apartment to change, but she was still a little nervous about telling Clarke she was moving to Polis in the next couple of months. Would she be okay with that? God, she hoped so.

She went upstairs, thinking her darker jeans were in order for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some serious Clexmas mojo up in here. amirite? :D


	11. Lexa-licious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa go to dinner at the pub, then head back to Clarke's for a movie night. Their plans are slightly interrupted.

Clarke finished the last of the paperwork she’d been wanting to get done by 5.45. She still had one more painting that needed to go home with its buyer, and if that person didn’t come by after Christmas, she’d call.

She went into the back to do a final security check before she closed this place for two days, and while she was checking the back door, she got a text.

_how was your date????_ Raven asked.

_fucking amazing. going to dinner tonight, too_

She put her coat on and Raven texted again.

_[heart eyes emoji] when?_

_a few minutes_. She put her scarf and hat on then got her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

_omg go! but i’ll need a clexa update soon_

She laughed. _i’ll call u when i get a chance_

Raven was working up a reply so Clarke made sure she had her keys then went to set the alarm.

_if u come up for air, that is [devil emoji] ttyl_

“Oh, my God,” Clarke said when she read it but she blushed, too, because that thought had crossed her mind uncountable times since the night of her show. She set the alarm then walked quickly to the front door and went outside and locked it.

She was about to text Lexa when she looked up and saw an all-too-familiar form walking toward her and God, every part of her responded with sparks and heat and was this even normal? And fuck, how could anyone look so goddamn good in just simple dark jeans and Timberlands?

“Hi,” Clarke said as Lexa approached and before she could say anything else, Lexa had pulled her close and kissed her and damn, it was hot, her lips soft and urgent, moving just right.

“Hey,” Lexa said after a few more moments of utter deliciousness. “How was your day?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t really form coherent thoughts at the moment after that.”

She grinned. “That’s kind of how I feel all the time, now.” She took Clarke’s hand. “Did you drive this morning?”

“No. I wanted to walk with you.”

“Cool. Ready to go?”

“Yes.” She started walking, Lexa’s hand still in hers.

“So? How did it go today?”

“Pretty busy, actually. Sold a few pieces. Others came to pick up paintings they bought at the show. I have one more waiting for its buyer and if he doesn’t show up after Christmas, I’ll call him.”

“Clearly he was abducted by aliens and removed from the planet, because there’s no way anybody would purchase a Clarke Griffin painting and forget to pick it up.”

“Oh, is that what happened?”

“Absolutely.”

Clarke laughed and leaned into her. “Also, I talked to my mom to let her know you’re definitely going to be in town through Christmas and we’ll see her Saturday.”

“Did she say anything about what we could bring?”

“I told you not to worry about that. Except for the bottle of nice white wine you’re going to pick up.”

“You think we’ll have time to do that tomorrow?”

“Yes. After the holiday market.”

“Awesome.”

“Also, my mom knows about us.”

Lexa looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Subtle, dropping that in there.”

Clarke laughed. “I thought you might like to know.”

“And, like, oh, my God, like, I can’t believe you told her,” Lexa said in an overblown Valley Girl accent, which made Clarke laugh.

“I didn’t. She had already figured it out when we were at breakfast. She said she noticed a different vibe between us.”

“Fine. Your mom might be psychic.”

“Or just really observant.”

“Are you saying a surgeon might be observant about human responses to stimuli?”

“Yes.”

“Because I was for sure stimulated that morning.”

Clarke groaned.

“Still am.” She grinned. “Although one could also plausibly argue that because she’s your mom, she thus knows your body language pretty well. Perhaps _you_ were stimulated.”

“Oh, I was _definitely_ stimulated.”

“Hmm. Interesting. By what, in particular?”

“You first, Woods. You started this.”

She laughed. “I was so happy that morning.” She stopped, which caused Clarke to stop, too. “And when you picked me up for breakfast and kissed me—it reminded me that this isn’t a dream, that we really are doing this, and I’ve been so happy that there’s no fucking way your mom didn’t see it all over me. Cheesy, I guess, that happiness is a stimulus for me these days.”

Clarke stared at her, and it was like her heart was going to explode with feels and she had no idea what to do with it all except kiss her. So she did, and she didn’t even care that they were out here on this sidewalk under a street lamp in full view of whoever drove by. Fuck, she’d take out an ad in the local Polis media to tell everybody she was really fucking into Lexa goddamn Woods.

“That only increases stimulation,” Lexa said softly.

“That’s the point.” Clarke tugged her hand and started walking again. “And my mom is really happy for us and said that she always wondered why we had never dated in the past.”

“Same here.”

Clarke shoulder-bumped her. “It wasn’t time.”

“I know. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t wonder about it.”

She squeezed her hand. “We can both stop doing that, now.”

“And…there’s another happiness stimulus.”

“Oh, my God. You and your stimuli.”

Lexa laughed. “Nice use of the plural.”

“I am Clarke Griffin, wielder of words.”

“Purveyor of plurals.”

“And quite possibly a stickler for stimuli.”

“Oh, snap,” Lexa said with a grin and Clarke got lost for a bit in her eyes but then she almost tripped. Lexa steadied her. “Too much stimulus, I’m guessing.”

Clarke snort-laughed. “Too much _something_.” She leaned into her again. “Oh, I forgot this part of my day. One of the people who picked up a painting today is a realtor and, okay, I’m just going to put this out there—she’s great to work with, so if and when you’re ready to leave New York and come back to this area, I can hook you up. I was actually kind of bummed because she’s got a great rental about three blocks from me that’s opening in a couple of months and I think it would be amazing if you lived there.”

They were almost to the pub, but Lexa stopped again and stared at her, brow furrowed, intensity in her eyes.

“I mean, not to freak you out, okay? But I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want you closer. Because I do. And I have for a while.” She said it in a rush then waited, watching Lexa’s face. Oh, God. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.

“So…what I’m hearing is that you’d be okay if I relocated to Polis.” Her eyes sparked with amusement and Clarke might have exhaled in relief.

“Totally. And you already talked about wanting to leave New York, before either of us said anything about wanting to be more than friends. Well, I have a connection who might be able to make that easier.” She shrugged, still worried that this might be too much future talk.

Lexa smiled and her eyes seemed to light up. “I have to tell you something.”

“Okay…” Clarke said, hesitant. She put her hands in her pockets. And then she frowned. “Wait. You texted me earlier that you wanted to tell me something. Is this it?”

“Yeah. And you know how I am about preferring to do some things in person. But I did give you a heads-up this time.” And her smile was so cute that Clarke might partially have melted.

“So what is it?”

“Um, when I told you I wanted to leave New York, I had already started making some plans to do that. Relocating is one of the things that was contingent on whatever happened with you.”

“In what way?”

“I want to come back to this area. But I sure as hell didn’t want to be too close if you said no. I figured if that happened, I might take a transfer to freakin’ Seattle or something.”

“Okay, _that’s_ being dramatic.”

She smiled again, sheepish. “Okay, maybe just not to Polis, then. But regardless, you mean the world to me. So if I told you I wanted to be more than friends and you didn’t feel the same way, it would have required some healing time for me. We’d probably be able to figure it out, but I’m kind of sensitive where you’re concerned. I’d come around eventually, but it would take a while.”

Oh, God. Her heart. She just wanted to hold on to her and tell her it was going to be okay, that yes, she was so into her, too. She took Lexa’s hand.

“Anyway, I asked the New York office earlier this year about relocating possibilities and we were all looking at August of this coming year as potentially doable.”

“Did you ask for DC?” she asked, hopeful.

“Yes. Well, the DC area.”

“So you might literally be moving here in August?” Little spikes of excitement shot through her chest.

“Hold on. Things get more interesting. So this morning I got a call from one of my colleagues.” She paused.

“And?”

“And my relocation request was approved.”

“Oh, my God, you’re _definitely_ moving to this area in August?”

Lexa laughed. “March.”

She stared at her. “Wait— _March_? As in this coming March? Two months?”

“Yes.”

“Holy shit.” And she practically threw herself into Lexa’s arms.

“There’s more,” she said, laughing.

“What?” She pulled back a little.

“I contacted Niylah and told her that I’d be looking for a place—”

“Why the hell didn’t you call _me_?”

“Clarke—”

“Okay. We’ll talk about that in a minute. Go on.”

She gave her a quick kiss. “So there I was, minding my own business this afternoon when I got a call from Niylah. She said you had just come by the café and told her that Deb Perez had a place coming open. She gave me Deb’s number and the address.”

“Oh, my God.”

“So I called Deb, who was actually at the house, and I went over to see it.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Was Lexa going where she thought she was?

“Exactly. Turns out I know Deb. Met her senior year.”

“That’s right. We all did.”

“Anyway, I loved the house.” She grinned. “And I rented it.”

Clarke’s jaw dropped.

“I have to sign the lease tomorrow, so that’ll cut into our Christmas Eve—”

Clarke kissed her. And she put into it a whole lot of relief and hope and fuck, she knew it was laced with all kinds of future shit but so what? This was Lexa, and she had waited a long damn time to get to this point with her.

“Goddammit,” she said after she pulled away. “I fucking don’t have words for how awesome this is. But I do need to know why the hell you didn’t call me as soon as you found out you could move in March.”

“I texted you that I needed to tell you something. And I was going to tell you over dinner. And here we are.” She gestured at the pub.

“Lexa,” she said, trying to sound like she was scolding but she couldn’t be mad at her. “Seriously?”

“I’m sorry.” She looked pained.

“No, it’s okay. It’s just…why didn’t you just tell me as soon as you knew?”

“Because I needed to think for a bit. I wasn’t expecting March, and a whole lot of things went through my head. I also didn’t want you to think that I was putting pressure on you.”

“Why would your moving back to Polis do that?” She cupped her cheek and stroked it with her thumb.

She sighed. “I went back and forth about whether I wanted to move to Polis or closer to DC because I didn’t want you to think I was trying to force something with you by moving to the area. And I worried maybe you would be uncomfortable knowing I was moving, especially since we just started this. After all, it’s still pretty new between us.”

“Except it’s really not,” she said, arms now around Lexa’s neck. “We’re not kids anymore, and we both know what we want. I’m not dating you to find out if this is going to work, to see if we have anything in common. Because we do. We have for years. And I finally admitted it to myself and then to you.”

“So why exactly are you dating me, then?” she said, her smile a gentle tease.

“Because I’m way fucking into you and I want to take it farther.” She smiled back and kissed her again. “And I really like dating you. It’s exciting and sexy.”

“Sexy, huh?”

“Yeah. I finally feel like I can really flirt with you with intent.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

She smirked. “Guess you’ll find out. Also, with you living here, I can date you even more.” Which she fully intended to do.

“So you’re okay with this?”

“Yes. Yes, Lexa. I am _so_ okay with this. You were already talking about leaving New York. This isn’t something you pulled out of your ass yesterday.”

She smiled. “No, it’s not. It is kind of weird, though, all this stuff coming together.”

“Maybe it really _is_ Christmas magic.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Maybe it is.” And Lexa kissed her, long and slow, and God, her lips and holy shit her tongue—

Lexa pulled away. “I need to stop because otherwise our date isn’t going to get very far.”

“I think it’s progressing quite nicely, actually,” she managed. “But I see your point.” She took Lexa’s hand and pulled her to the pub’s entrance but hesitated before going in. “Can I tell people? Or is moving something that stays on the DL?”

Lexa smiled. “No.”

“Good.” She grinned and opened the door. “Because I’m super-excited. Also, bar or table?”

“Bar. As long as I can sit next to you.”

“Okay, how fucking cute are you?” She squeezed her hand. And they were clearly in luck, because there was lots of space at the bar, including the chairs they had occupied the week before—God, had it only been a week?

“Hey,” Octavia said from behind the bar with a big smile.

“Hi,” they both responded as she came and gave them both hugs.

“How are things going?”

“Awesome,” Lexa said.

Octavia laughed. “Clearly. So is it beers and burgers tonight? Or something else?”

“The former,” Clarke said and she took her coat off and grabbed a seat while Lexa took the one to her left.

“You want a beer list?” Octavia asked as she went back behind the bar.

“I don’t need one. Do you?” Clarke asked Lexa.

“No. Hook me up with a Stocking Stuffer.”

“Same,” Clarke said.

“Coming up. Here’s a menu. I think you’re okay sharing.” She smirked and went to get the beers.

“Do you need this?” Clarke asked, tapping the menu.

“Nope.”

She smiled. “Me, either.” She stared at her for a little bit, admiring the button-down shirt she’d worn that brought out her eyes. “That shirt looks really good on you,” she said softly.

Lexa flashed her a wicked little smile. “It looks better off.”

Lincoln emerged from the back before Clarke could respond. “Hey,” he said as he joined Octavia behind the bar.

Clarke leaned a little closer to her. “We’ll talk about this later,” she said just loud enough for her to hear.

“Counting on it,” she whispered back and Clarke forced herself not to haul her into the pub’s back office.

“Happy night before Christmas Eve,” Lincoln said, grinning.

Lexa laughed. “Same to you.”

“So.” He gave them both a look. “Can I ask how things are going?”

“Geez, Lincoln,” Octavia said as she set their beers on the bar. “Give them a break.”

“What? It’s because I care.”

“Maybe they don’t want to talk about their personal lives.”

He made a show of sighing heavily. “Fine. So how’s it going?”

Octavia smacked him lightly on the arm. “Do you want to order some food now?” she asked them.

“Cheeseburger,” Lexa said. “With gouda and sweet potato fries.”

“Guacamole burger,” Clarke said. “Same on the fries.”

Octavia put coasters under their glasses. “Medium well on both?”

“That’s only a little creepy that you know that,” Clarke said.

“That whole Polis crew brain thing.” She smiled and went to put the order in while Lincoln answered the phone, which was hanging on the back wall near the liquor shelves.

Clarke held her beer up. “To our second official date.”

Lexa tapped her glass against Clarke’s. “To more than friends,” she said, and the look in her eyes made Clarke ache.

“Definitely.” She took a sip to try to get her mind off unbuttoning Lexa’s shirt. “Damn, that’s good beer.”

“Right?”

“Okay,” Octavia said. “How are things going?”

Lincoln had finished on the phone and he leaned on the bar next to Octavia. “Yeah. What she said.”

Clarke laughed. “God. Privacy much?”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Whatever. So for real. How’s life beyond the friend zone?”

Clarke smirked and took Lexa’s hand. “Fucking amazing.”

Lexa smiled. “Second Clarke.”

Lincoln fist-pumped. “Yes. Clexa’s in the house. Damn, Raven might be right about having a block party. I feel like this totally warrants one. Plus, it’ll be a good way to lure Lexa down again from New York City.”

Clarke looked at Lexa, a question in her eyes and Lexa smiled and gave her a nod.

“So, yeah. About that,” Clarke said, tightening her grip a little on Lexa’s hand. She looked at Lexa again, thinking it was probably better for her to tell them.

“What?” Octavia asked, her gaze moving from Clarke to Lexa.

“Early this year,” Lexa said, “I requested relocation at my job. I wanted to come back to this area, and that’s what I pushed for.”

“And?” Octavia said

“So the DC area was in play and my colleagues and I agreed that August next year would be good but then I got some unexpected news this morning.”

“Jesus Christ, what?” Octavia pressed. Lincoln crossed his arms, waiting.

“As it turns out, I can relocate a lot earlier.”

Lincoln raised his eyebrows. “When?”

“March,” Clarke said. “And now here’s another amazing part of this.” She told them the Deb story, with Lexa helping.

“What the fuck,” Octavia said when they finished.

“Holy shit this is—fuck, this is completely off the chain awesome,” Lincoln said. “I can’t even believe this. And hold on, let me get your burgers.” He went back to the kitchen and Octavia shook her head, still looking a little stunned.

“Okay, seriously, this is some wild-ass mojo going on up in here,” she said.

“Which is pretty much the best kind.” Clarke gave Lexa a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Aww,” Lincoln said as she set their plates down. “And now I’m going to leave you two alone to your burger date. For now.” He flashed them a grin just as the bar phone rang again and he went to go answer it.

Octavia set mustard and ketchup on the bar. “Okay, before I leave you alone, I just need to say that seeing you together is really cool and knowing that Lexa’s going to be back in Polis is—I don’t know. It’s kind of giving me feels.”

Clarke laughed. “Seriously? _You_?”

“I know, right? Really quickly, is this secret info?”

“No,” Lexa said. “But I haven’t had time to talk to Anya and Raven, and I’d like to be the one to tell them.”

“Will do. But hurry up so I can call Raven and scream.”

Lexa grinned. “I’ll let you know,” she said as she put lettuce and tomato on her burger and squirted mustard on the bun. "Or Raven will."

“Cool. Let me know if you want anything else.” She grabbed a couple of menus and took them to two people who had come in and sat down at the opposite end of the bar.

“You didn’t tell Anya?” Clarke looked at Lexa, surprised.

“No. I wanted you to be the first. Besides Niylah, which was sort of a necessity because I needed to see if she knew anybody renting anything.”

“I’ll let that slide, too, that Niylah knew before me.”

“It _was_ kind of a necessity.”

“I agree.” She cut her burger in half, which made it easier to eat, and took a bite. “One of the many perks of this move for you is that these burgers are here.”

“I totally said that in my relocation request.”

Clarke smiled. “What _did_ you say? I mean, you had to have good reasons to get them on board.”

Lexa finished chewing and swallowed then took a drink of beer. “I’ve been wanting to come back to Polis for a while, and I’ve been taking a lot of cases that have allowed me to work at the DC office. I mean, I’ve been down here more than a few times over the past couple of years.”

“True. I guess I might’ve wondered why you didn’t just base in DC.”

She smiled. “I _did_ start wondering that. And like I told you, this area has always felt like home. Sometimes it takes leaving someplace to realize what home is. And I’ve always felt like this is where I’m _me_. I’ve got a great network of friends here, Indra and Gustus are in the area, Anya’s here—that all played into my request.” She turned slightly so she could look at Clarke. “And you’re here.”

“Well, yeah. Friend network.”

“Partly that, but if I’m being honest with myself, I wanted to be closer to you because I was hoping there was more. And then things happened between us before I moved.”

“Yeah. They did.” Clarke squeezed her hand. “But it feels right.”

“It does.”

“So did you tell them all of that?” she teased.

“I said I wanted to go home, and that I needed a change. My colleagues know I have a lot of friends and family here, and they know I went to college here. The senior attorney in New York kept throwing me work in this area, and though she didn’t say why, I’m pretty sure that she was trying to help get me here and make sure the DC office was cool with me.”

“How the hell could anybody not be cool with you?”

“You’d be surprised. When I have to go into lawyer mode, let’s just say it’s not always popular.”

“I’ve seen you in that mode. It’s fucking hot.”

Lexa laughed. “That’s a kink I never knew you had.”

“Please. I love it when you go all Commander Asskicker.”

“Good to know.” She smirked and ate one of her remaining fries.

Clarke finished the first half of her burger and held the other half up for Lexa. “Bite?”

“Yeah.” She took it from her. “Mmm. That guac is so good.” She handed it back and gave Clarke a bite of her own burger.

“Oh, yum. The Gouda totally makes it so much more than just a regular cheeseburger,” she said.

“Right?”

They both finished their burgers and fries at about the same time and Clarke nodded, satisfied. “That was perfect. Excellent choice for our second date.”

“I concur.” Lexa took Clarke’s plate and put it on top of hers and set them both aside.

“I was thinking that now maybe we could do another movie at my house…? Because I’m selfish and I really like being around you.”

“How is that selfish?”

“Because maybe you have some work to do—and you’d better not do it tomorrow. So if you need to take care of that to make sure tomorrow is freed up, I’ll suck it up tonight.” And it _would_ suck, but if it meant she got Lexa for two uninterrupted days, then she'd do it.

“Aww. Thanks for the sacrifice. But it’s all good. The next few days for me are clear. With the exception of signing the lease tomorrow.”

“That is a totally acceptable exception. We don’t need to go to a movie tomorrow, then. We can chill out, have breakfast, go to Deb’s office and then to the holiday market for our regularly scheduled plan. So…movie tonight, then?” She left it open-ended, hoping that Lexa would end up spending the night again and even if they didn’t get as physical as she would like, just being near her in bed again would be amazing.

“Hell, yes.”

“Everything good?” Octavia asked as she took the plates.

“Awesome,” Lexa said. “And seriously, O, please bring us a check this time. We would like you to stay in business.”

“Seconded,” Clarke said.

“God, you two are difficult.” She smiled and took the plates to the back.

“I’m kind of thinking you should tell Anya your news,” Clarke said after Octavia had left. “I mean, Octavia and Lincoln know before she and Raven do.”

“And they’ll probably give me a ton of shit if I wait.” And then she smirked and shrugged. “I’m not interrupting a date with you, even for that. I’ll take whatever shit they dish.”

“I’m kind of feeling honored right now.”

“Beer, burgers, and no phone calls. I’m a classy date.” She smiled rakishly and Clarke stared at her, wondering again if she might be dreaming.

The moment passed when Octavia set two tumblers on the bar and Clarke jerked her attention away from Lexa and looked at her, puzzled.

“This is a Clarke-tastic.” Octavia pointed at the one closest to Clarke. “This one—” she pointed at the one closest to Lexa, “is un-named. But it’s a drink in honor of Lexa. Since Clarke has her own drink, it seems only fair that Lexa get one, too. So it’s up to both of you to name it.” It was garnished with a cinnamon stick and a lemon wedge.

“Damn, that’s a lot of pressure, O,” Lexa said, but she picked it up and sniffed. “Cinnamon and…bourbon?”

“Try it.”

Lexa sipped. “Oh, wow. That’s really good.” She handed it to Clarke, who also sniffed then took a sip.

“It’s like a whiskey sour, but with cinnamon.”

“So why did these flavors make you think of me?” Lexa asked as she took the glass back and sipped again.

Octavia smiled. “Clarke? What do you think?”

“Sure, I’ll bite. Good bourbon is smooth,” she said, looking at Lexa. “Like you. But it has an underlying warmth. Also like you. The cinnamon adds a layer of spice, and in terms of you, it’s something you reveal after a bit. That’s kind of what happens in this drink. You get the smooth, then the warmth, then the spice, and then there’s lemon, which cools it down a little. You can present a smooth, cool façade, but underneath there’s so much going on.”

Lexa laughed. “I feel like I just had therapy.”

“How’d I do?” Clarke asked Octavia.

“Pretty much nailed it. That little spicy edge in the solid smoothness of the bourbon was kind of what I was going for to evoke Lexa. Do you like it?”

“It’s delicious,” Lexa said as she handed the glass back to Clarke.

“It is. It could be either summer or fall, too.”

“So think of a name. We need a Lexa drink in here.” Octavia went to the other end of the bar to take an order and Clarke took another sip.

“It kind of weirds me out, sometimes, how well Octavia knows aspects of our personalities,” she said.

“I kind of like how well you know aspects of mine, however," Lexa said with a smirk.

"Okay, there's that." Clarke swirled the drink in the glass and sipped again. It really was delicious—oh, hello. “I’ve got it.” Clarke waved Octavia over. “This—” she held the drink up, “is a Lexa-licious.”

Lexa stared at her.

“Fuck, yes. That’s _it_.” Octavia grinned. “Lexa-licious and Clarke-tastic. I have to tell Lincoln.” She texted him, since she probably didn’t want to leave the bar unattended and a few seconds later he joined them.

“Oh, my God, we have ship swag,” he said. “A Lexa-licious and a Clarke-tastic.”

Clarke groaned. “Ship swag? Really?”

Lexa laughed. “I’ve never been any kind of swag. Does this come with extra responsibilities?”

“You have to continue to engage in the ship,” Lincoln said. “Which I’m pretty sure is not going to be difficult.”

“Nope.” Clarke squeezed Lexa’s thigh. “Not a problem at all.”

“I can fully support this swag responsibility.” She squeezed Clarke’s hand where it rested on her thigh then picked up the Clarke-tastic and sipped. “That’s a great drink, too.”

Lincoln nodded. “O made one for me the other day. Love it. But I’m really stoked about this new one, too. She’ll tweak both of them a bit so they’re even more off the hook, but they’re pretty damn good right now.”

“You should put a book together of fave drinks and burgers at Grounders Pub n’ Grub. I’d be glad to illustrate it. You could sell it.” Clarke sipped the Lexa-licious.

“That’s a seriously good idea,” Lexa said. “I’d buy copies and give them to all my New York colleagues. Who needs Manhattan bars when you have Grounders?”

He laughed. “I kind of dig this idea. We’ll keep you posted.”

Octavia returned with a check that she set between them. “I’ll let you two figure this out from here. But I will say that the Clarke-tastic and Lexa-licious are on me. You were a focus group for that.” She left to take an order from a server and Clarke handed a credit card to Lincoln along with the check.

Lexa had her wallet out, but Clarke shook her head. “My turn. You got breakfast yesterday.” And God, was it only yesterday? She nodded at Lincoln and he went to cash them out.

“Thanks,” Lexa said.

“Any time.” Clarke took another drink of the Lexa-licious. “I’m kind of loving that you have a namesake here, too.”

“What do you think a Clexa drink would have?” Lexa asked as she took a sip of the Clarke-tastic.

“Oh, now _that’s_ a good question.”

Lincoln came back with the receipts and a pen. Clarke signed it and included a big tip. “What kind of drink would a Clexa be?” she asked him.

His brow creased. “Besides a really good one?”

Lexa laughed. “There’s your next project.”

“Definitely. So are we going to see you again before you go back to New York?” he asked.

“Maybe. But let me get a hug now just in case I don’t.”

He grinned and came around the bar and wrapped Lexa in a bear hug. “It was so good to see you and I’m so happy about these developments between you and the Clarke half of my ship.”

“Same.”

He gave Clarke a hug, too. “Merry Christmas. Be safe and I’ll see you when I see you.”

Octavia came around the bar and gave her a hug, too. “If you decide you want to swing by our place tomorrow evening, just show up.”

“Thanks.”

“But you’d better be getting a shit-ton of Lexa time instead,” she said in a tone only Clarke could hear, near her ear. “Text or call when you have some time,” she added when she pulled away, and she smirked. “I won’t expect to hear from you for a few days.”

She went to hug Lexa before Clarke could snark back.

“ _So_ good to see you,” Octavia said. “Looking forward to seeing you more often.”

“Same.” Lexa released her and put her coat on. “Ask Lincoln about the Clexa,” she said as she took Clarke’s hand. Octavia shot him a look and he grinned.

“Oh, we’re definitely going to come up with something in that regard. Next time you’re in town, we’ll have it ready.”

“Cool. Thanks for everything,” Lexa said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Back atcha,” Octavia said. “Stay in touch.”

“Always.” Lexa looked at Clarke, and she didn’t need to say anything because Clarke read the question in her eyes, about whether she was ready to go or not.

“Thanks,” Clarke said to Lincoln and Octavia. “And I’ll see you soon.”

“Get into some good trouble,” Lincoln said, and a flush heated Clarke’s neck as Lexa laughed and started walking toward the door, still holding Clarke’s hand.

Once outside, Clarke put her hat and scarf on while Lexa put hers on and adjusted her own scarf.

“Do you mind if we take a little walk before we go to my house?” Clarke asked.

“That would be great.”

“Good.” She started walking, Lexa’s hand in hers, tucked in her coat pocket.

“Did you have something specific in mind?”

Clarke flashed her a smile. “I want to see your new place.”

“You _have_ seen it.”

“This is a whole new light.”

Lexa chuckled and moved closer as they walked. “Okay, then. Let’s do it. Also, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Not telling you I was moving right away.”

“Lexa—”

“I just have such an aversion to telling people things like that in impersonal ways.”

“You mean via email, text, or phone call?”

She sighed. “Yeah. But I realize maybe that’s not always the way to go. Next time, I’ll call you with news if I can’t be there in person.”

Clarke squeezed her hand. “I get it. You’ve always had this little streak, where you feel it’s more honorable to tell someone something important face-to-face, but seriously, sometimes it’s not effective.” She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “And you did give me a heads-up text message. With a bunch of heart emojis. So I figured it was something good.”

“I didn’t have the house rented when I texted you that, so that message was only applicable to moving in March. I didn’t get over to the house until later. And then it became an even bigger surprise.”

Clarke smiled. “Surprises are fun. Also, I’m not mad about you not telling me right away because you wanted it to be a surprise. But just so you know, if it’s news like you got some big promotion, won the lottery—or even if it’s shitty news—let me know as soon as you can. And that will probably require that you use tech,” she added, teasing.

“I will totally do that. It’s not that I’m a Luddite. I just don’t want to be _that_ person, who doesn’t tell anyone anything face-to-face.”

“Like that dude junior year who broke up with Harper via text?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s totally not you and it will never be you.” She stopped and cupped Lexa’s cheek with her other hand. “And along those lines, don’t ever worry about telling me something. I know we’re moving into new terrain, here, but we’re tight. We’ve always been tight. This shift between us—it’s amazing and special and I can finally express how much I care about you. I know we’re both trying to find our footing and things that worked before we took this leap might not work as well now, but we’ll figure it out. Just don’t be afraid of me.”

“I could never be afraid of you,” she said softly. “And I hope you don’t worry about telling me anything.”

“You mean don’t wait years to tell you how I really feel about you?” She smiled and kissed her.

“The same could be said for me in that regard,” Lexa said after a few more kisses.

“So how about we tell each other things?”

And Lexa gave her that damn sexy half-smile. “I’m in.”

“Me, too,” and she wasn’t talking just about telling each other things. She saw in Lexa’s eyes that she wasn’t, either and that just made her kiss her again. Finally, she pulled away and they continued walking and though it was cold out, Clarke barely noticed because of all the warmth washing through her that being so close to Lexa generated.

“Damn, there are some great decorations in your neighborhood,” Lexa said.

“It’s friendly competition. But it means you’ll have to decorate, too, since it’s going to be _your_ neighborhood, as well.”

Lexa didn’t say anything for a while but she leaned into her and gripped her hand a little tighter. “My neighborhood. Wow. It still feels kind of surreal.”

“Do you even have holiday decorations?” Clarke teased.

“Maybe a few,” she shot back. “I have a whole year to get some more.”

Clarke laughed. “True. That should be enough time.”

They turned the corner onto Orchard and Clarke sped up.

“This is your block,” she said, pulling her with her until she stopped in front of the house Lexa had rented. A porch light was on as was another light over the garage and someone had left a light on in the interior because she could see it through the small, high windows in the front door.

“I love it,” Clarke said.

“I took photos of the inside.” Lexa took her phone out and Clarke moved closer to look over her shoulder.

“Deb said they’re upgrading the electrical,” Clarke said.

“Yeah. So it looks like a construction zone inside, but that’s okay.” She scrolled to a particular photo. “I thought the tower painting would look good in this room. It’s the room I want as my office. It’s on the second floor and looks out over the back yard.

“Kind of like my house.”

“Yeah. The layout’s similar, but not entirely.” She scrolled slowly through a few more photos. “The kitchen and bathrooms are all upgraded, too.”

“That’s huge. A lot of the older houses in this area haven’t been. And that kitchen looks really good.”

She regarded her, a half-smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I’m really looking forward to cooking with you here.”

Clarke hugged her. “You are such a romantic. And I’m really excited about this, in case I didn’t make that clear. So go ahead and loosen up, Woods. It’s okay to be excited, too.”

She laughed. “I am. I’m just still kind of blown away by how all this happened.”

“Could be magic. Regardless, it’s going to be amazing having you so close again.”

Lexa pulled back a little and held her gaze, expression unreadable. “Are you worried at all about it?”

“No.”

She smiled and her expression softened. “Not even a little bit?”

“No. I’m excited for you to be back home and to spend a lot more time with you.”

“That sounds kind of like future talk.”

“It could be. Or it could just be me really glad that you’re going to be close, which makes it a lot easier to see where we can go.”

“That’s where I am with all of this.”

Clarke smiled. “And okay, so it _is_ a bit of future talk. But so what? I’m into you. And you’re going to be in this house—” she a gestured at the porch, “three blocks away from me. You know what that means?”

“Christmas decoration competitions?”

“Besides that. And besides cooking dates.”

“Barbecues?”

She snorted. “Booty calls, Woods.” Which was no more flirtatious than they’d been in the past. But this time, she meant it and Lexa’s eyes widened and then she smirked.

“When you put it _that_ way, why the hell didn’t I move sooner?”

“Right?” Clarke grabbed her hand and pulled her back down the block, laughing. “Movie time.”

“Wait. I’m intrigued by this whole booty call thing,” Lexa said, also laughing as she hurried with the pace Clarke had set.

Oh, God. A flush seemed to suffuse her entire body and she slowed down. “Just…something to think about. For when we’re ready.”

Lexa pulled her close. “I _am_ thinking about it.” She kissed her and oh, God, nobody’s mouth should feel this good. But fuck, it did.

“Oh, really?” Clarke said softly.

“Mmm hmm.” She kissed her again. “Another perk of leaving the friend zone is that I can have those thoughts and not feel weird about them.”

“What’s weird about wanting a booty call with me?” she teased.

“Nothing now. But before, I felt a little guilty, like I was objectifying you or something. And it was weirder still when you were seeing someone and I would still have thoughts about you that friends probably shouldn’t have about friends.”

“Well, I totally objectified you, too.” She kissed her again. “But in a good way.”

Lexa laughed. “Good objectification? How does _that_ work?”

“I genuinely care about you and I genuinely respect you. And I sure as hell can appreciate how hot you are, and not just in a physical sense. You’re smart and you have a great sense of humor and—fuck, I’m just really into you. So that’s some good objectification.” She started walking again, because she really wanted to get Lexa to her house and get close without all these winter layers between them.

“It’s mutual.”

“I kind of figured. Since you’ve been kissing me a lot these past couple of days.”

“Can’t help it. It’s awesome.” Lexa grinned and gripped her hand a little tighter and sped up.

“So awesome,” Clarke repeated, laughing, and she remembered a day walking with Lexa across campus during midterms when they were sophomores and it was pouring rain and Lexa decided to jump in several puddles. She had laughed and yelled like a kid and Clarke had stared at her, then joined in because there was something so unfettered and silly about this side of Lexa that she couldn’t resist.

They carried on like that to the edge of campus, when they had to go separate directions, but it had felt so great, blowing off stress like that, even though they were both drenched. She felt in some ways now like she had then, enjoying the moment and the company, a little light-hearted and giddy but also really, really glad that the moment was with Lexa.

Once inside her house, they divested themselves of coats, hats, scarves, and shoes.

“Popcorn?” Clarke asked.

“Definitely.”

“Cool. Go find something to watch.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

She smirked. “Are we still talking about a movie?”

Lexa raised her eyebrows. “For now,” she shot back with a smirk of her own.

“Something light and fun.”

“ _Ghostbusters_?”

“Perfect. Everyone needs Kate McKinnon in their lives.”

“Agree.”

Clarke gave her a quick kiss. “Let me get the popcorn going.” She went into the kitchen and set the air popper up then started to load it with popcorn.

“Do you want something to drink?” Lexa asked as she came in.

“Diet Coke.”

Lexa took two cans out and set them on the island. “Want a glass?”

“No.” Clarke started the popper and put a big plastic bowl under the mouth. She watched as Lexa opened one of the cans and took a drink and she envisioned taking her to bed, envisioned undressing her and finally expressing that part of what she’d been feeling for so long.

Lexa slid the other can toward her. “You look a little…thirsty,” she teased.

She flushed as she opened the soda. “Yeah, well, nobody would blame me, if they knew what I was thinking.”

“And what would that be?” And she punctuated the question with one of her sexy half-smiles.

“What we talked about yesterday.”

Her smile widened. “Can you be more specific? We talked about a lot of things yesterday.”

Popcorn started filling the bowl and Clarke grabbed a piece and threw it at her. It bounced onto the countertop and Lexa grabbed it and ate it.

“C’mon, Clarke. What’s on your mind?” She teased as she moved closer and God, her eyes and God, she loved it when she said her name.

“You, of course.” She gripped the front of her shirt and pulled her into a heated, hungry kiss.

“Anything specific?” Lexa asked after a few moments, lips barely touching hers.

“Oh, yeah.” She started to kiss her again but Lexa pulled back, grinning.

“What?”

“Jesus,” Clarke muttered. “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

Lexa cupped the back of her neck. “Yeah. And it’s the same thing that’s been on _my_ mind.” She kissed her, and it started slow but deepened quickly and her hands were on Clarke’s hips then she moved them to her lower back and up from there and God, it felt good. Clarke had her hands in Lexa’s hair against the back of her head, holding her in place as she went to town on her mouth and suddenly Lexa was backed against the counter and she held Clarke hard against her and holy shit, her hands moved a little lower than her back and _Jesus_ she was wet.

Maybe more than she’d been the night before, and that had been so arousing, though they had kept their clothes on. Sharing touches like they did now, breath speeding up, kisses urgent and demanding—Clarke ran her hands over Lexa’s shoulders then down her arms and she couldn’t even think, senses filled with how she smelled and tasted and God, the soft little noises she was making.

Clarke moved her hands to the buttons on Lexa’s shirt and Lexa was slowly pulling Clarke’s shirt out of her jeans when Lexa’s phone rang.

They both stopped, staring at each other, and then Lexa smiled.

“Date night,” she said with a shrug and leaned in so she could kiss Clarke’s neck. Her phone stopped ringing but a few seconds later came a notification that the person had left a message.

Whatever. It could fucking wait. Clarke shifted her position to give Lexa easier access to her neck.

Lexa’s phone sounded with a text.

“Can’t they see I’m busy?” she muttered against Clarke’s skin.

“They’d better not be seeing this,” Clarke said between gasps.

Lexa laughed and gently sucked on her neck.

Clarke’s phone rang and they both stopped again.

“What the fuck?” Lexa pulled away. “That seems…too coincidental.”

Oh, God. Was it an emergency? Clarke pulled her phone out of her pocket just as the notification of a voicemail sounded. “Deb.” She looked at Lexa, brow furrowed.

Lexa checked her phone, too. “Huh. Same.”

“Better call her back. It might be about the house.”

“Yeah. Sorry about this,” she said as she entered her password.

“You get a pass this time.” She patted her on the abdomen then went to deal with the popcorn, though she was aching and tingling everywhere.

“Hi, Deb? It’s Lexa.”

Clarke sprinkled garlic salt on the popcorn and tossed it a bit.

“Okay, hold on. Let me check on that.” She held the phone against her chest. “Deb had a bunch of stuff come up tomorrow so she wants to know if I can sign the lease tonight. She’s at her office.”

Fuck. That meant Lexa would have to leave for a bit. Or…”I’ll drive you.” Signing it tonight meant they could have a mellow morning. Since Clarke was going to make sure Lexa stayed the night.

She air-kissed her and put the phone to her ear again. “Yeah, so I’ll be over in a few minutes—” she stopped, listening. “Um, do you _want_ to do that? Because I can—”

Clarke sipped her soda and ate a handful of popcorn, watching her, which was becoming one of her favorite pastimes.

“Okay, but I’m at Clarke’s house right now,” she said and Clarke looked at her, puzzled. “Okay if Deb swings by here with the lease?” she asked her.

“Sure.” That made sense. Her house was on the way to Deb’s, so this worked out even better.

“Yeah, that’d be fine. Thanks so much. See you in a bit.” She ended the call and looked at Clarke, sheepish. “Sorry about this.”

“Not your fault. And besides, getting this out of the way now means we don’t have to worry about it tomorrow.” She set her soda down and hooked her fingers on Lexa’s waistband and pulled her close. “Because I’m really, really hoping you’ll stay the night again.” And she hoped she wasn’t being too forward, but after the makeout session they just had, she wanted more. A lot more.

“And I was really, really hoping you’d invite me,” she responded with a sultry little edge to her voice.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Clarke toyed with one of the buttons on Lexa’s shirt.

“Oh, we totally are,” Lexa said and the look in her eyes—the throbbing increased between Clarke’s thighs. Lexa brushed a kiss across her lips. “Don’t get me started right now,” she said softly. “Because that would be really awkward for Deb to see.”

Clarke laughed. “Fine. Have some popcorn.” She grabbed the bowl and held it up.

Lexa took a handful and ate a piece. “It’s good, but you taste better,” she said with a smoldering smirk and then she picked up her soda and left the kitchen.

Jesus _fucking_ Christ. Clarke watched her go, and okay, she stared at her ass because it looked really good in her jeans. But she knew it would look better out of them, too. She cleared her throat and grabbed her soda, really, really enjoying this shift between them and wanting to see where they could take it.

She set the popcorn on the coffee table and put her soda on a coaster. Lexa wasn’t in the room, so Clarke figured she had gone to the bathroom. She appeared soon after and oh, God, her shirt was untucked and oh, God, the expression in her eyes—

The doorbell rang.

Clarke went to the door, checked through the peephole, and opened it. “Hey, Deb. Come on in.” She stepped aside.

“Hi,” she said. “I am so sorry to interrupt your evening like this.” She was wearing her long black coat and carrying a manila folder.

“No problem,” Clarke said with a smile. “You can hang your coat up right here.” She motioned at the hooks by the door, and Deb did.

“Do you want something to drink?” Clarke asked. “Diet Coke? A glass of wine? White or red.”

Deb hesitated. “You know, a small glass of white wine would be great.”

“Let me hook you up.” She went to the kitchen, Deb and Lexa following and chatting amiably. Deb knew she and Lexa were friends, and probably didn’t assume anything but that, but even if she assumed more, she’d be fine with the very queer nature of this situation.

Clarke poured one of her stem-less wine glasses half-full and handed it to Deb, who set it on the counter.

“Okay, Lexa. Here’s the lease. There are two copies. One for you, one for me. It’s pretty standard, but in accordance with Virginia law and blah blah blah. Have a look and let me know if anything looks strange. I’ll just be over here drinking.”

Lexa laughed. “But responsibly, of course.” She took the lease, leaned on the island, and started reading.

“Let’s let her concentrate,” Clarke said to Deb. “Come to the living room.” Deb left and Clarke went around the island and kissed Lexa on the cheek, grabbed a few napkins, then went to the living room where Deb was sitting in one of the plush chairs set at a right angle to the couch.

“Popcorn?” Clarke asked as she took the end of the couch closest to Deb. She moved the bowl closer to her on the coffee table and Deb took some.

“I _did_ interrupt, didn’t I?”

“We were just getting ready to watch a movie,” Clarke said with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it.”

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It's fine." Even though she had been about to undress Lexa in her kitchen, signing a lease for a house three blocks away was a legitimate reason to interrupt.

“I also wanted to thank you for sending Lexa my way.”

Clarke laughed. “I actually didn’t. I told Niylah after you came by and Niylah called Lexa. But there’s a funny backstory.” She told her and when she finished, Deb took another handful of popcorn along with one of the napkins Clarke had brought.

“So…you didn’t know Lexa was looking for a place until today?”

“No. She had mentioned that she wanted to leave New York and she’d been doing a lot of work in DC, but I didn’t realize that it was probably going to happen this year and I didn’t know until a few hours ago that the timeline was early March. Lexa wanted to tell me in person over dinner, but she called Niylah this morning to tell her that if she knew of any places to give her a call. And then a whole bunch of things just clicked into place.” She took some popcorn, too. “It was kind of a holiday comedy situation.” A holiday romcom, but she wasn’t going to say that.

“Well, however it happened, thank you. I’m so glad things turned out the way they did.”

“Everybody wins,” Clarke said with a smile.

Lexa joined them, holding the lease. “Looks good. I’ll sign it in front of you and Clarke, if you need her as a witness."

“No, but I’m sure she’ll be happy to serve as one. Do you have a pen?” Deb asked. “I have one—”

“Clarke keeps some in the kitchen,” Lexa said, holding one up, and again, Clarke marveled at how she knew her house and some of her habits.

Lexa initialed all the pages of both copies then signed both and handed one to Deb. “There you go. Thanks so much for stopping by.”

“I’m glad I was able to and I’ll now leave you to enjoy your movie.” She stood and put her copy of the lease back in the folder then picked up her glass.

“I’ve got it,” Lexa said, taking it from her as Clarke retrieved her coat.

“Thank you both,” Deb said as she put her coat on. “And thanks for the wine, Clarke. It was nice to catch up a bit.”

“Definitely. Let’s have lunch sometime.”

“After the new year. Text me.”

“Okay. Be safe and Merry Christmas.”

“You, too. And Lexa, I’m really glad you’ll be moving in. I’ll be in touch regarding the schedule.”

“Thanks. Looking forward to it.”

Clarke held the door for her and she and Lexa watched to make sure she got to her car and then Clarke locked up again. “So it’s official,” she said, smiling so wide it practically hurt. “You’re coming home.”

Lexa grinned, whooped, and grabbed Clarke in a hug and then they were both laughing and jumping up and down like kids all over the foyer and the living room and Clarke really loved the silly side of Lexa and right now she just wanted to be close to her.

“Okay, so this is pretty amazing,” Lexa said after they collapsed on the couch, still kind of laughing.

“I feel like our celebration should now involve eating a bunch of cold popcorn and watching a movie.” Clarke reached for the bowl. “And cuddling,” she added with a smile. “Because any time I get Lexa cuddles is a special occasion. And tonight feels especially relevant for those.”

“I will gladly supply them every chance I get.”

“I might demand a lot.”

“I have a never-ending supply for you,” Lexa said and she kissed her temple and it was so soft and so sweet that Clarke practically dissolved in a puddle of feels.

She positioned the throw over their legs and Lexa grabbed the remote and loaded the movie. She settled back against the couch and Clarke put the popcorn bowl between them along with a few napkins.

“Is that too loud?” Lexa asked.

“No. Now get to it, Commander Cuddles.”

Lexa laughed and put her arm around her shoulders and Clarke leaned into her and even something as simple as watching a movie held a lot more meaning now and in a couple of months, they’d be able to do this more often. She smiled, thinking that she’d find a way around Lexa’s workaholic habits.

She relaxed even more and when the popcorn was done, Lexa put the bowl back on the coffee table and adjusted her position, making her even more accessible for cuddles, and Clarke took full advantage of it.

And God, it was so nice, surrounded by her warmth and damn, she smelled good. Clarke breathed deeply a few times, enjoying the sandalwood notes that her skin seemed to exude. She was only half-aware of the movie, since she was so relaxed and Lexa was stroking her arm and then her head. This was some kind of bliss…

“Clarke.”

She snapped awake. The movie was over and somehow she’d ended up with her head on Lexa’s thigh. “Fuck. Guess I’m tired.”

“Seems that way. Go on up to bed.”

“What about you?” she said as she rolled over so she could look up at her and Lexa caressed her face.

“I’ll clean up a little.”

Clarke yawned. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It won’t take long.”

She sighed and sat up, letting the throw slip off her shoulders onto the couch. “You’re still staying, right?”

“Definitely.”

She smiled and stood. “Everything’s still awesome, then.”

Lexa chuckled. “Go on up. I’ll be right there.”

Clarke stared at her for a few moments, liking the varying degrees of intimacy that statement could encompass. She gave her a quick kiss and went upstairs, loving that Lexa was in her house, doing mundane things, and soon she’d be upstairs, too. She smiled and put her pajama pants on along with a T-shirt and then she put the sweats and tee out that Lexa had worn the night before and okay, that gave her another case of feels because the tee smelled a little like her.

Lexa had worn Clarke’s tees many times in the past for unplanned crash nights, but this time—this time was different. Clarke smiled even wider and bit her lip, thinking that soon, Lexa would live really close and that was seriously exciting.

She went to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. That done, she slid under the covers and checked her email on her tablet, though her eyes were already half-closed. She heard Lexa on the stairs and smiled when she came into the room.

“Thanks for doing that.”

“You're welcome.” She leaned down and gave Clarke a kiss then went to the foot of the bed where Clarke had put the sweats and tee and holy fuck, she started unbuttoning her shirt and even though she was being totally utilitarian about it, it was still fucking sexy.

Clarke started to say something then stopped as Lexa shrugged out of her shirt and set it on the bed and holy shit, she was wearing a black lace bra and Jesus, she looked good. She then unbuckled her belt and made it worse as she unfastened her jeans and stepped out of them. Fuck. Black silky underwear. She put the sweats on and Clarke still couldn’t talk.

“Be right back,” Lexa said with a devilish smirk as she picked up the tee and started toward the door.

She found her voice. “So not fair, Woods.”

“And why is that?”

Clarke gestured wordlessly at her, which made her laugh.

“You’ve seen me like this.”

“It’s different now, for fuck’s sake.” And holy shit the way the light played across her shoulders and chest and that bra…

She lingered in the doorway. “I know. And I’m really enjoying it.” She left.

“Unfair, Lexa,” Clarke yelled after her and she heard her laughing in the bathroom. She groaned softly. And yeah, she’d seen her like that many times over the years but fucking hell, that was before, when the friend zone barrier kept her from staring too much or paying closer attention, though she often did sneak a few lingering looks because Lexa was hot, from a purely objective point of view. But she had also let Clarke into her life in ways she didn’t with others, and that only made her hotter, had only made Clarke want more.

And now she could get it.

It was definitely different. In all the best ways.

She stared at her tablet but saw nothing except the image of Lexa stepping out of her jeans, thighs on full display—she groaned again and set the tablet aside because clearly, that wasn’t happening. The bathroom door opened and she heard Lexa’s footsteps and when she came into the bedroom, she had the tee on.

Lexa smirked at her again then folded her clothes and put them on the shelf in Clarke’s closet before she joined her under the covers. Clarke turned her bedside lamp off and like the night before, the two of them moved into each other’s arms, and it was so natural, like they’d been doing it for years.

“God, you’re a tease,” Clarke said softly.

“You’re one to talk.” She kissed her and Clarke rolled them over so Lexa was on top and their kisses deepened and Clarke slid her hands over Lexa’s back and damn, she could kiss her forever.

She moved her hands lower, to the space between where Lexa’s shirt ended and the sweats began and she ran her fingers lightly over her skin. She explored a little more, moving her hands under the tee to Lexa’s lower back and oh, God, her skin was so warm and so soft.

“Is this okay?” Clarke asked.

Lexa smiled against her mouth. “Yes. Is this?” She shifted a little and put her hand just above Clarke’s hip, against her skin and it seemed that heat poured into her from her touch.

“God, yes.”

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this?” Lexa said against her neck, her hand sliding up her side beneath her shirt then to her back.

“About as long as I’ve wanted to do the same thing to you.” And she loved the way Lexa’s back felt beneath her hands, loved how Lexa’s hand felt on her own skin.

“Mmm. Years, then,” Lexa murmured, and if she wanted to continue to kiss her neck like that, Clarke was a wholehearted supporter of it.

“Yep.” About the same time she’d first wanted to kiss her. And now here they were, and Clarke nuzzled her neck and fuck, she was both aroused and so, so relaxed…

Lexa kissed her forehead and eased off her.

“What—where are you going?”

“Nowhere. But I know you’re really tired and I am, too, so how about a booty call rain check?”

She laughed. “You did _not_ just say that.”

“I totally did.”

“Oh, my God, you might be perfect for me.”

She smiled, her features just visible in the dark. “I just might.”

Clarke kissed her again, but shit, she was right because she was pretty tired and fading a little. “Fine. I’m tired. But I will _not_ forget what you said.”

“I’m counting on it.”

She caressed Lexa’s cheek. “I’m really enjoying this side of you.”

Lexa gently took her hand and kissed her palm. “But wait. There’s more,” she said softly in a fake announcer’s voice and Clarke laughed.

“I’m counting on _that_.” And she snuggled against her and God, she was tired but it was the _best_ , falling asleep like this.

“Good night,” Lexa said softly.

“G’night. Thank you for staying.”

“Any time.” She kissed her, a sweet, gentle brush of her lips and all kinds of warm fuzzies joined the feels hanging out in Clarke’s heart.

“Oh, hey,” Clarke said, struggling to stay awake a little longer.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really into you.”

“Good. Because I’m really into you, too.”

She smiled and sighed, happy.

“Go to sleep,” Lexa said. “I’m right here.”

“Which is awesome. ’Night, Lexa-licious.” And the last thing she heard before she fell asleep was Lexa’s soft chuckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dammit, Deb! Clexa/booty call block! lol
> 
> But hey, it's official. The lease is signed!
> 
> And I have feels.
> 
> Also, sorry for the slight delay on this chapter. I was mad illin' for two weeks and couldn't do much except lie around and groan then shuffle into the kitchen for more tea. Ugh. On the mend, but still a bit behind. Hope you bear with me. You can find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/andimarquette) and [Tumblr](http://www.andimarquette.tumblr.com) if you want.


	12. Magic Christmas Mojo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Clexa Christmas in Polis! And there's so much to do...

Sunlight had worked its way under the curtains when Lexa opened her eyes. She was on her back and she stayed still, easing out of sleep, but fully aware of Clarke’s arm resting across her stomach and her leg over hers. Basically, Clarke was using her as a full-body pillow and she loved it.

She moved her head slowly and kissed the top of Clarke’s head and stared at the ceiling, thinking about the time Clarke had visited her for a weekend in New York, soon after she took the job at the ACLU. She didn’t have much furniture in her apartment, but Clarke rolled with it and they spent the first full day Clarke was there in Chelsea and Greenwich Village, walking, talking, and checking out various shops.

It had been a totally unscripted day, but full of laughter and fun and that night over dinner in a tapas restaurant, Lexa knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do for Clarke. One of many clues, she realized now, that she meant a whole hell of a lot more than just friends.

Clarke stirred and Lexa smiled because waking-up Clarke was just as cute as sleepy Clarke.

“See, now this is where you should be in the mornings after you spend the night,” she said, voice huskier than usual.

Just-waking-up Clarke sounded sexy as hell. “I agree. But you have to admit, getting breakfast is nice, too.” She put her hand on Clarke’s, where it rested on her stomach.

Clarke made a contented noise and kissed her neck and Lexa hugged her a little closer with her other arm. “What are you thinking about?” Clarke asked as she snuggled harder against her.

“You.”

“Anything in particular?” And her voice held a teasing edge.

“That time you came to visit me in New York after I got hired at the ACLU.”

Clarke didn’t respond right away, but she kissed her neck again. “That was a great trip.”

“Yeah. It was.”

“What made you think about that?” She pulled her hand out from under Lexa’s and ran her fingers gently up her forearm and oh, the sparks and tingles that generated.

“Because I didn’t have much furniture and you slept in my bed with me and we ended up pretty much like this.”

“Not the first time,” Clarke said, a smile in her voice. “That was fun, that trip. We spent the day in the Village and Chelsea. It was hot, so we hung out a while at the piers.”

“Yeah. Why did we wear jeans that day?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be that warm. But it worked out, because it got cool that night.” She was quiet for a moment. “We had tapas at that little place near the piers.”

“Killed a bottle of wine, too.”

“But we were there for a couple of hours and we left a big tip, so there’s that.”

Lexa chuckled, the feel of Clarke against her arousing, and finally she didn’t have to pretend that the friend zone was fine with her. “That was one of the nights in our past that I really wished we were more than friends.”

Clarke continued to trace patterns on Lexa’s arm with her fingers. “That whole weekend, I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

“Why didn’t you? Neither of us was seeing anybody.”

“Scared. And I didn’t want to make weird issues between us. You were just starting a new job and I was working on getting my gallery space. It didn’t feel like the timing was right.” She interlaced her fingers with Lexa’s. “So instead I just got really close to you in bed. Like right now. And why didn’t you kiss _me_?”

“Because—same reasons. And don’t think it was all you getting close in bed,” she teased.

“I’m very much aware that it wasn’t. That might be one of the reasons that I hoped one day we’d end up like this for real.” She repositioned herself and kissed her.

“And here we are,” Lexa said, smiling. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

“Back atcha.” She kissed her again and Lexa marveled at how quickly she responded, both emotionally and physically.

“So,” Clarke said. “How do you want to do today? Breakfast? Brunch? The store for wine? Then the market?”

Lexa thought about it for a few moments. “Before we decide, I should have brought a change of clothes.”

“Okay, so how about this? Go to Kristen’s and get some clothes. Then come back here and shower.”

She chuckled. “I can shower at Kristen’s, you know.”

“But that means you’ll be gone longer.” She pretended to pout. “And I want to make sure that I spend as much time as possible with you for the next couple of days.”

“Uh-huh. There’s no other ulterior motive to wanting me to shower here?”

“Like what?”

“Like, for example, trying to see me naked?” she teased.

Clarke laughed, a low, sultry sound. “Please. You think that’s the only way I’ll see you that way? Accidental shower nudity?”

Lexa laughed, too. “That sounds like a medical condition. Doctor, I think I might have accidental shower nudity. What do you recommend?”

“That you share it with me. Duh.” She grinned, and Lexa kissed her and Clarke’s lips against hers had her thinking about all kinds of other things that involved much less clothing.

“Damn,” Clarke said. “You’re addictive.” She brushed Lexa’s hair away from her forehead. “And I am so glad you’re here.”

Lexa’s breath hitched at the expression in Clarke’s eyes and she gently cupped her cheek. “I am, too.”

Clarke’s phone rang and she groaned. “That’s my mom. What the hell time is it?” She rolled off Lexa, much to her disappointment, and picked up her phone. “It’s almost ten.”

“Tell her hi.” Lexa smirked, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then went to the bathroom, sparks bouncing up and down her spine. She did some morning ministrations, and when she finished brushing her teeth, she stared at herself in the mirror, listening to the sound of Clarke’s voice. She couldn’t hear what she was saying, but just the sound of it caused even more sparks.

She was really, really into her, and somehow, thinking about what that might mean for the future didn’t really scare her anymore. She was here, in this moment, and that was more than she ever thought she’d get. She put the toothbrush back and returned to the bedroom, where Clarke was up and wearing sweats and a sweatshirt and big blue fuzzy slippers. Which were adorable.

Lexa made the bed while Clarke talked, and at one point she came over and pressed against Lexa’s back, one of her arms around her waist and Lexa stopped with the bed and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of her so close.

“Are you sure that’s it?” Clarke said to Abby. “Okay. We’ll see you then. Merry Christmas, Mom. Love you. Bye.” She tossed the phone onto the bed and slid her other arm around Lexa’s waist. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. She’s your mom and you’re finalizing some plans.” Lexa turned around in her arms. “What else do we need to bring?”

“A pie.”

“Any particular kind?”

“Apple. I’m thinking we could make one tomorrow morning before we go to DC.”

Lexa grinned. “You know I love cooking with you.”

“Which is why I’m trying to get you to do more of it with me. Now kiss me for a minute, Woods.”

“I knew you had this demanding streak, but I really like it under these circumstances,” Lexa said before she lost herself in the feel of Clarke’s mouth and tongue and fuck, that whole booty call rain check came to mind—

Lexa’s phone dinged with a text.

“Jesus,” Clarke muttered.

Clarke’s did, too. And then a few more tones sounded.

“Group message,” Lexa said before she got another kiss in. “Christmas shit.”

She laughed. “Can I quote you on that?”

“Definitely.”

Clarke kissed her again then pulled away. “So here’s what I suggest. Go to Kristen’s and do what you need to do. Then we can grab a late breakfast or brunch or whatever then we’ll go to the store. I need to get some apples and you can get wine. After that, holiday market time. Or we can just go to the market after we eat. Stores are open until six tonight.”

“Sounds awesome. Let’s do the store before the market.”

“Cool. More time at the market means more churros.”

Lexa smiled. Any time with Clarke was time she wanted to spend. She finished making the bed then grabbed her phone and went downstairs, still wearing Clarke’s sweats and tee. When she got to the front door, she put her shoes on and coat, hat, and scarf.

“Lexa.”

She looked up as Clarke came down the stairs.

“You know,” she said as she rearranged Lexa’s scarf around her neck, “I wouldn’t mind if you brought your stuff here from Kristen’s.” She sounded a little shy, gaze focused on the scarf before she shifted it to Lexa’s.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind doing that, either.”

“After all, it makes it easier for you.”

She smiled. “So…you’re inviting me to spend a couple more nights with you?”

A sexy-sweet smirk lifted the corner of her mouth and Jesus, that beauty mark above her lip was so hot. “You’re quick, Woods. Figuring out my plan like that.”

“That whole evidence analysis thing I have going on,” she said with a grin.

Clarke put her arms around her neck and goddammit, she was kissing her again and how the hell was she supposed to get anything done at this rate?

“Okay, that might tide me over for a few minutes,” Clarke said softly as she pulled away. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah.” But Lexa didn’t move and instead stared at her, caught in her eyes.

“Yes?” she said, smiling.

“I just—damn. Mind blown. That’s all.” She turned and opened the door before she started something else with her. “See you soon.” She flashed her a smile and stepped onto the porch, knowing Clarke would stand in the doorway for a bit watching her.

“Hey.”

She turned, halfway down the porch steps.

“I’m planning on cashing that rain check,” she said, tone both promise and invitation.

She regarded her for a moment, heat gathering between her thighs. “I’m counting on it.”

Clarke grinned, blew her a kiss, and closed the door, leaving Lexa to float the three blocks to Kristen’s.

When she got there, she showered, dried her hair, dressed in clean clothes, and packed her one large duffle bag. It had wheels, which made it easy to maneuver through airports and train stations. Plus, winter wear always took up more room than other seasons. Her backpack held everything work-related like a few folders, her tablet and laptop and “digi-gear,” as she called the cords and other things that devices required.

Once she had everything together, she put it by the door and pondered it, and what it might represent.

It felt a little bigger than just spending Christmas together, like the start of something even though neither of them had expressed anything about being exclusive or long-term.

Was that a conversation they needed to have, since she was coming back to Polis?

Probably.

And they would, because that’s how they were with each other. They talked about a lot of things, big and small. But right now, it was Christmas and she wanted to stay present.

She texted Christmas greetings back to the group then took her duffle bag and backpack down to the car. On her way back upstairs her phone rang with Indra’s tone.

“Hi,” she answered. “Merry Christmas.”

“I was just calling to tell you that.”

Lexa grinned and went back inside where it was warmer. “So how’s Florida?”

“We’ve decided we prefer the Gulf side to the Atlantic side. And next year maybe we’ll go to San Diego.”

“That sounds fun. Where are you right now?”

“On the beach, of course. Gustus is looking for shells.”

She could picture him, this huge guy walking barefoot along the beach, watching what each wave brought in. And for all of Indra’s generally intense energy, she could chill like she’d been that way her whole life.

“Sounds relaxing.” She did a walk-through, making sure she had everything.

“It is. Are you back in New York?”

“No. Still in Polis.”

“Oh, good. So you won’t be alone. Unless you’re just going to work through it,” she added, tone a little disapproving about that, clearly.

“I’m not going to work and no, I won’t be alone. I also have some news,” she said before Indra started in on whether she would be going down to DC to hang out with Anya and Raven.

“You sound excited, so I’m going to assume it’s good.”

“It is. Remember I told you I had requested relocation to the DC area?”

Pause. “Did you get it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, now that is _exactly_ the kind of Christmas news I wanted to hear. Didn’t you say August?”

“That’s what I originally asked for, but the office called yesterday (fuck, it felt much longer than that) and said I could go sooner.”

“When?”

“They said starting here around the beginning of March.” And she barely kept herself from bouncing around again.

“March? That’s—that’s only two months. As soon as we get back we’ll start helping look for a place.”

“It’s okay. It’s taken care of.”

Another pause. “What?”

She gave her the rundown about what happened with the house and when she finished, Indra didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Well,” she finally said. “This is exactly how things need to be.”

Lexa laughed. “Clarke says it’s Christmas magic.”

“It is. And how is she?”

Her smile widened. “Amazing,” she said before she really thought about it.

“I see. Is there something _else_ you would like to share?” she asked, warmth in her tone.

Oh, hell. “Um…”

She chuckled. “Dropping the subject—”

“No, that’s okay,” she said, because she really wanted her to know. “Things…happened.” She hesitated again, but only for a second. “With Clarke.”

“Uh-huh. Am I to understand that you finally told her how you feel about her and that she reciprocates?”

“Wait. You knew?”

She laughed. “It’s been clear to both me and Gustus for years that you two make an excellent couple. But you had to determine that for yourselves.”

Lexa started to say something but laughed instead because this _was_ kind of a holiday romantic comedy.

“Who else knows?” Indra asked.

“Um. Pretty much everybody, now.”

She laughed again. “The Polis grapevine. Does Abby know?”

“Yes. She figured it out. We’ll see her tomorrow.”

“So you’re spending Christmas with Clarke,” she said, voice warm and teasing. “Uh-huh.”

A blush heated Lexa’s neck. “Yeah. It…sort of happened, too. And I’ll tell you how this all came about after I get back to New York, since you won’t be back in Polis until after the new year.”

“Good. This is a story I want to hear and I’m going to make sure Gustus is there, too. He’s been hoping both of you—as he says—pull your heads out of your asses and just get to it.”

“Jesus,” she muttered, but she was still smiling.

“Lexa, we’ve known Clarke for years. And we’ve seen the two of you interacting for years. There’s always been something between you. The timing is finally right, and I really hope that you’re planning to bring Clarke to dinner with us once you’re moved.”

“I hadn’t thought about it because of everything else that just got added to my to-do list, but yes. Definitely.” And then she bit her lip to keep from laughing because Clarke just popped into her head as on her “to-do” list.

“Good. And aren’t you supposed to be spending Christmas with her?”

She didn't fight this laugh. “Is that a hint?”

“Just a small one. And besides, I want to tell Gustus. Don’t be surprised if he texts you later.”

“Can’t wait. I’ll talk to you later. Love you both and Merry Christmas.”

“Love you, too. Merry Christmas to you and to Clarke. Tell her we look forward to seeing her.”

“Will do. Bye.” She hung up and stood for a bit, processing. Friends and family didn’t seem to have any problem shifting gears, which was awesome. And oh, shit. She forgot to tell Anya about her move. She texted her a quick note to find out if she had time to talk and then she texted Kristen and told her she was leaving two nights early. She had paid in advance, so Kristen wouldn’t lose anything.

Satisfied that she hadn’t left anything, she entered the lock code and went down to the rental car, a basic gray sedan.

Her phone rang with Anya’s tone as she was getting into the car and she grimaced at the timing. This was going to be a cold conversation unless the car warmed up faster than she expected it to.

“Hey,” she said as she started the car.

“What’s up? And why aren’t you with Clarke?”

“Who says I’m not?”

“Because we probably wouldn’t be having this convo if you were.”

“I’m on my way back to her house. I had to get a change of clothes.”

“Uh-huh,” Anya teased and she sounded like Indra. “Why the hell don’t you just stay the next couple of nights with her?”

“Well, I am. I had to get my stuff.”

“Atta girl.”

Lexa rolled her eyes but she smiled, too.

“So what’s up?” she said again.

“Are you at home?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Is Raven there?”

“Jesus, what the hell is happening? You’ve got me worried. And yes, she’s here.”

“Good. Put me on speaker.”

Pause. “Okay. We’re here.”

“We’re queer,” Raven yelled.

Lexa laughed. “All right, here’s the news,” she said. “I’m moving back to Polis.”

Silence. Then, “What the actual fuck,” Anya said and Raven started cheering in the background.

“The office approved my relocation.” Despite the chill in the car, another tide of warmth rushed through her.

“Holy shit. So we have until August to get things ready?” Anya said.

“No. I’ll be here the beginning of March.” She grinned. Every time she thought about it now she wanted to celebrate.

“Oh, my God,” Raven said. “Is this for real?”

“Yes.”

“How the fuck did _this_ happen?” It sounded like Anya had leaned in closer to her phone.

“Got lucky. The office called me yesterday and said I could go earlier.”

“I mean, I’m really happy for you, but wow. Not much time to get shit done. We’ll tap Polis crew starting, like, right after Christmas to see if we can help you get a place to live—”

“I got one.”

“What? What kind of mojo is this of which you speak?”

“Second Anya. What the hell, Woods?”

She adjusted the heat and told the story.

“Holy shit,” Raven said when she was finished. “Something clearly wants you in Polis, and with Clarke.”

Lexa laughed, but it might have been a little nervous. “Or it’s just time for me to come back to Polis.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Raven said with a little snort for emphasis. “I’m going for magic Christmas mojo. Which might be redundant, but I don’t care. Can we tell people?”

“Yes. And sorry, but we already told Octavia and Lincoln.”

“Dammit,” Raven said, with dramatic emphasis.

“We had dinner at the pub last night, and it came up.”

“Fine. You’re forgiven. And I am way stoked. Merry freakin’ Christmas to both of you.”

“Same to you,” Lexa said.

“And on that note, get your ass to Clarke’s,” Anya said. “We’ll talk later.”

“Sounds good. Later.” She ended the call and put the phone down on the passenger seat and sat, the heat from the vents blowing on her. For some reason, telling people made it more real than signing the lease.

She’d be walking distance to Clarke’s.

And why the hell was she still parked at Kristen’s? She put the car in gear and drove to Clarke’s, ready to get this Christmas started.

###

Lexa dipped her churro into her hot chocolate and took a bite before it got too soggy. Clarke was doing the same with her churro while she talked to an artist whose booth they currently occupied. A small propane heater that Lexa presumed was safe for indoor use and issued by the city for events sat near the small folding table the artist was using as a desk.

She stood near the entrance, munching on the churro (damn, these things were good) and scanning the items the artist had on display. She did found object jewelry that she created out of things like old typewriter keys, marbles, and what looked like parts of watches. She combined them in interesting ways to produce rings, bracelets, earrings, and necklaces and right now, Clarke was engaged in an animated conversation about repurposing items for art.

Lexa smiled because she loved how passionate she was about it and it filled her heart with all kinds of feels to see her happy like this, talking art with a fellow traveler. She turned her attention to the steady stream of pedestrians moving in both directions past the booths, laughing and talking. Holiday music played through speakers strategically positioned on poles brought in for the purpose and a group of high school-aged students were singing along as they walked by. The holiday market tended to bring that out in people. She smiled again and turned her attention back to Clarke and the necklace that had caught her eye.

“Go ahead and try it on,” the artist said, and the piercing in her lip moved with her smile. One side of her head was shaved, which gave her kind of a cool punkish pirate look. “Put your cup here.” She motioned at the folding table. Clarke did but she handed her churro to Lexa.

“Guard that,” she said, expression grave, but humor sparked in her eyes.

She nodded, equally grave.

Clarke unzipped her coat and picked up the necklace—a simple silver chain with a pendant—and fastened it around her neck then moved to the mirror hanging nearby. Lexa moved closer and studied the pendant, which was simple but also cool. The centerpiece was a metal gearwheel, maybe the size of a nickel. Some kind of cog, maybe, sort of bronze or dull gold. The artist had placed it into the interior of what had once been a square silver locket that no longer had its cover, then fastened the locket to the chain. It was a much plainer piece than some of the other work in the booth, but there was something in its elegant, quiet simplicity that Lexa really liked.

“It looks really nice,” she said as Clarke stared at herself in the mirror the artist had positioned in her booth for just this sort of thing.

“But do I really need another necklace?”

“Maybe not need, but want?”

She laughed. “True.” She gently touched the pendant, her fingers brushing the gear wheel. “There’s something about it, though.”

Lexa caught her gaze in the mirror. “For some reason, it makes me think of the tower.”

She smiled. “Same here.” She unclipped it and carefully hung it back on its display rack. “I’m going to think on it,” she said to the artist. “If it’s still here after we do the rounds, then I’ll buy it.”

The artist smiled. “It looks very nice on you.”

“It does,” Clarke said and Lexa heard in her tone that she did really like the necklace, but in typical Clarke fashion wasn’t going to spend money on herself for things like that.

Clarke picked up her cup and took her churro back. “Thank you so much for chatting and please come by my gallery when you get a chance.”

“Absolutely. Thanks for stopping.”

Clarke moved toward the entrance, but her gaze lingered again on the necklace before she stepped outside.

“Could you do me a huge favor and hold on to that necklace?” Lexa asked when she was sure Clarke was out of earshot. “I’ll be back in a bit to pay for it.”

The artist laughed. “Definitely. Want me to put it in a box?”

“Yes, please. I’m Lexa, by the way.” She grabbed one of the artist’s business cards, somehow managing to hold her churro and cup in one hand.

“Tess. See you in a bit.”

“Thank you.” She hurried outside, where Clarke stood waiting for her, a question in her eyes. “Got her card,” she said, and she held it up then slipped it into Clarke’s coat pocket.

“Oh, cool.” She dipped her churro into her hot chocolate and took a bite. “Want to continue wandering?”

“Sure.” They moved with the flow of the crowd, looking at the vendor tents closest to them, pausing at a few. They both finished their hot chocolate and churros about the same time, but the market also attracted a lot of food vendors, and Clarke bought a small jar of local blueberry jam that she was able to carry in her coat pocket and then they stopped to try a variety of different flavors of balsamic vinegars.

“Hi, Clarke,” said a woman in a coat that looked kind of like Deb’s. “The chocolate one is amazing.”

“Hi, Patty. We were just saying that. This is Lexa.”

“Hi. I deliver Clarke’s gallery mail.”

“Hey. Good to meet you. Bet you’ve seen some crazy things.”

She laughed. “There have been a few times that I do seriously wonder what people were thinking.”

“Mom,” said a girl about eight with a gorgeous afro who joined them. “Can I go with Misha and her dad to see the puppet shows?” Then her eyes widened and she smiled. “Hi, Clarke.”

“Hi. Stop by when you can and show me what you’ve been working on.”

She practically beamed.

“Okay,” Patty said. “Where are Misha and her dad?”

“Right there.” The little girl turned and pointed at a guy trying one of the vinegars. Another little girl stood next to him, looking dubiously at the vinegar-stained piece of bread he handed her.

“Let me go talk to him.”

“We’ll go with you, too,” Clarke said. “Puppet shows are cool. Lexa? You into it?”

“Definitely.”

“Also,” Clarke added, “this is Aniyah, Patty’s extremely talented daughter.”

The girl beamed even more.

“Hi. I’m Lexa. I hope I see your work hanging in Clarke’s gallery some day.”

She smiled, shy, and grabbed Patty’s hand.

“Be right back,” Patty said, and she and Aniyah went over to where Misha and her dad were trying another balsamic vinegar.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Clarke asked.

“Hell, yes.”

“There’s another churro in it for you.”

She laughed. “It’s come to that? Plying me with churros?”

“Well, that and my awesome company,” she said, and her expression made heat settle between Lexa’s thighs.

“Ply me with that instead.” She leaned in and said, near her ear, “And let’s see what happens.”

“Oh, you’re on, Woods.”

Lexa stepped back with a smirk just as Patty and Aniyah returned with Misha and her dad, who introduced himself as Roberto.

“Let’s go check out some puppets,” Clarke said, and they all went over to the area in the center of the park being used for entertainment and though a late December chill hung in the air, the sun helped offset it.

Some wooden benches had been set out in front of a classic puppet theater and Misha and Aliyah found seats near the front while all the adults stood to the side or behind them. The show started with stringed marionettes, a story about a prince trying to save a princess from a dragon only to find out the princess had befriended the dragon and didn’t need his help.

“I like this story,” Clarke said to Lexa. Roberto and Patty were standing nearby, chatting about other mundane things while they watched the kids and the show.

“Right? Now all the princess needs is a BFF who could be something more.”

Clarke smiled and took her hand and how could such a simple gesture make her feel so damn good?

The story ended with the princess becoming a benevolent queen of her own kingdom, and the dragon stuck around, too. The kids cheered and clapped along with the adults, and then another story started, this one with a dancing bear marionette who wanted to follow his dream to dance.

“Aww, that’s cute,” Clarke said, still holding Lexa’s hand. “I love stories like this.”

“Maybe because you’ve lived it.” Lexa squeezed her hand. “And I need to pee. Do you want another churro or coffee or anything?”

“Not at the moment. And I’ll be right here.”

Lexa couldn’t help herself. She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek then reluctantly released her hand and started walking in the direction of the park’s public bathrooms, but once she was sure Clarke’s view of her was blocked by other market-goers, she changed her trajectory and went back to Tess’s tent.

A few people were inside browsing, but Tess smiled when Lexa came in.

“Hi. I’m back.” She took her wallet out and handed her a credit card.

“I knew you would be,” she said with a smile as she ran the card through the attachment on her phone.

“Artist and psychic. I like it.” Lexa smiled back and signed the screen with the stylus Tess offered her and provided her cell phone number for the receipt.

“It’s not hard to see there’s a lot of care between the two of you.”

She handed the phone and stylus back. “That obvious, huh?”

Tess gave her a “you’re kidding, right?” look but punctuated it with another smile. “I hope you both have a wonderful Christmas,” she said as she handed a small blue cardboard box to her.

“It already is.” She held the box up. “Thank you so much. Merry Christmas and may you sell everything you brought.”

She laughed. “I’m on my way to that. This has been a good couple of days. Take care.”

Lexa nodded and put the box into one of her inside coat pockets then headed back to the puppet show, but she first went and stood in line for the bathroom because she really did have to pee.

The puppet show was just ending when Lexa located Clarke, about where she had left her. “Did the bear get his dream?” she asked, heart seeming to flutter a little at the way Clarke’s eyes lit up when she saw her.

“Yeah. It was pretty cute.”

She knew how that bear felt. This whole day, she’d been feeling like that. No, for the past couple of days. And she really liked the way they were settling into this new context. It felt really comfortable but also really exciting and even just standing next to her was all kinds of hot and got her thinking (again) about getting her undressed and finally expressing herself in that way with her.

“Well, that was fun,” Patty said. “We’re going to take off. Good to see you. And it was good to meet you, Lexa.”

“Likewise. Maybe next time we can incorporate coffee and more talking.”

“Sounds good. Merry Christmas.”

“You, too,” Clarke said as Patty and Aniyah left. The latter waved at them and Misha did, too. Roberto offered a wave of his own then took Misha’s hand and they followed Patty and Aniyah.

“Nice kids,” Lexa said.

“Yeah. And Aniyah really _is_ talented. She has an eye for form and color and Patty encourages her artistic pursuits.”

“So do you. Which I think is super-cool.” She put her hands in her coat pockets. “Do you want to wander some more?”

“Yes. And I think it’s time for cheese fries.”

“Is this another attempt to ply me?”

She gave her one of her sexy smirks. “One could read a lot into that statement.”

“One should. But I expect you will continue to ply me with your awesome company as well.”

“That’s the plan, yes,” Clarke said as she gently tugged on Lexa’s coat and started walking toward the food truck area.

“Excellent.” Because, really, everything with Clarke was pretty much excellent. And after cheese fries, more wandering through the market and chatting with locals Clarke knew, Lexa realized that this felt like couple-hood. Like, major couple-hood. Like they’d been together this way a lot longer. The realization spread through her, a slow roll of warmth and feels that went much deeper than just a surface attraction.

They were standing in a small group of locals Clarke knew, talking about the market and plans for the next day and Clarke laughed at something someone said, a sweet, husky sound and God, Lexa wanted to hear that and her voice every fucking day.

Clarke took her hand as they all talked, their fingers automatically intertwining, like so many aspects of their relationship and lives had over the years and God, it was everything. Everything she could have wanted, condensed into this simple gesture.

“Good to see you,” Clarke said to the group as they started to disperse. “Merry Christmas.”

Lexa echoed her and they continued walking through the tents, afternoon shadows lengthening. The crowds had thinned, and a few of the vendors were organizing, getting ready to pack up.

“So far, this has been a really great day,” Clarke said.

“Definitely one of the best.”

“I’m _really_ glad you’re able to be here.” She squeezed her hand.

“So am I.” _So_ glad.

“Are you ready to go? Or is there something else you want to see or do here?”

She smirked. “Besides you?”

Clarke laughed. “I’m liking that I finally get this side of you.”

“This one?” She turned her head. “Or this one?” She turned her head the other way.

“As sexy as those are, I’m referring to the one that expresses some intent where I’m concerned.” She squeezed her hand again. “Because I’ve been wanting to see it for a while.”

And oh, the feels. Not just the warm and fuzzy ones, but the deep, achy, primal ones that had her thinking about sweat, messy sheets, and the slide of her skin against Clarke’s.

“I’ve been wanting to show it to you.”

“Lucky me.” She caressed the back of Lexa’s hand as they walked.

“And me.”

Clarke made a contented noise and then pulled Lexa toward a particular tent. “I want to see if that necklace is still available.”

Lexa sent a silent plea to Tess to play along.

“Oh, hi, again,” Tess said when she saw them. She, too, was organizing in preparation to pack up. She exchanged a look with Lexa. “And the necklace sold.”

“Oh, well. I’m not surprised. It had that way about it.” Clarke sounded disappointed and Lexa bit her lip not to blurt anything out right then.

“But I make other pieces like it, so just drop me a line. I think you have my card…?”

“Yes. Thanks.” She turned to leave.

“Thanks,” Lexa said and Tess grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

“Bummer,” Clarke said as they left the park and headed to her car, parked a couple blocks away. “There was something about that necklace.”

“Yeah, there was.” Lexa stopped, which made Clarke stop, too. “There still is.” She unzipped her coat and took the box out of her inside pocket.

Her brow furrowed.

Lexa handed the box to her and her heartbeat sped up a little, but it was just a necklace. Not an engagement ring or anything. And holy shit, why had her brain gone there?

Clarke opened the box and her entire face lit up. “Oh, my God.” She stared at the necklace for a moment then hugged her. “How are you still being Secret Santa?”

She laughed and held her close. “Maybe I have a streak in me. Maybe it’s my calling to be your Secret Santa.”

Clarke pulled away to look at her. “How did you pull this off?”

“A quick plan as we left and then a detour on my way to the bathroom during the puppet show.”

She stared at her, shaking her head. “This is so—” She looked into her eyes, then kissed her. “Oh, my God. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She put the cover back on the box and put it carefully into her coat pocket. Lexa started walking again but Clarke grabbed her arm and pulled her back into another kiss.

“That’s for being you,” she said softly.

Lexa stared into her eyes for a few moments, then gently stroked her face with the back of her hand. “And this is because you’re you.” She kissed her back, a soft, gentle meeting of lips. “So let’s go do some more Christmas.”

“Hell, yes.” She took Lexa’s hand and they walked the last block to Clarke’s car, and Lexa again felt like she was floating, and decided it was probably going to be a permanent state of mind where Clarke was concerned.

She settled into the passenger seat, and into the fun and flirtatious banter between them as Clarke drove, and Lexa thought again about how it felt like couple-hood between them, and maybe that should be scary. But it wasn’t, somehow, and she pushed the thought to the back of her mind for exploration later.

Right now, she was with Clarke on Christmas, and the day was only half over, and that’s exactly how things needed to be.

###

“Okay, A for effort, but also A for super-tacky,” Clarke said.

Lexa grinned. She’d been doing that a lot, lately. And now here she was, full of super-good Indian food from dinner standing next to her as they stared at the house and its holiday decorations. Others were doing the same, and cars drove slowly past. The owner had put speakers out and was playing old renditions of Christmas songs.

“It might be a little over-the-top,” she said, surveying the Christmas decorations that took up almost every part of the front yard. “And what is the deal with the giant inflatable Grinch?”

Clarke nodded. “Right? I get the giant inflatable Santa and Frosty, but the Grinch?”

“Seriously. Also, there are two sets of reindeer in this display. So Santa has a backup team?”

“There’re three. Check the roof.”

Lexa looked up. “All rightie, then. That one’s first-string, while the one near the garage is second-string and the one over there is minor league.”

“Can you imagine? Santa’s minor league reindeer work all year to try to make first or second string, just waiting to get bumped to the majors.”

“I think I might want that on an ugly sweater. Santa’s minor league.”

Clarke laughed. “I’m sure we can find one.” She started taking photos with her phone. “It’s hard to get the light control right on something like this, since it’s practically daylight in that yard but right here it’s night. Oh, well. People will get the idea.”

Lexa took her phone out to take some photos, too, glad that this house was a good six blocks from where her future home was, because the light from it might have been strong enough to land planes. “So how long have they been doing this display?”

“A few years. It’s popular with kids, but not really my thing. And please don’t ever do this at your house.”

She mock-sighed. “Dammit. That was totally my plan.”

“In all the years I’ve known you, I am pleased to report that you have never displayed a tacky streak. Silly, yes. Goofy, for sure. But never tacky. Fortunately.”

“I feel like you might be discriminating against tackiness,” Lexa teased. She also got a little thrill from Clarke talking about all the time they’d known each other.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” She kissed her on the cheek. “Shall we continue our light-gazing?”

“We shall.”

Clarke held onto Lexa’s arm as they walked. Several houses on the next block seemed to have coordinated their efforts, and decorated trees in their yards with lights. Strings of lights hung from almost every porch, and a few yards had one or two extra decorations like the reindeer made up of white lights. One house had two plastic Santas standing at the end of its walk, the kind that lit up inside.

“This is nice,” Lexa said. “Cheery but not overdone.”

“Yeah, this is my favorite block in the neighborhood at Christmas.”

“Of all these houses, I think I’d want to hang out with whoever lives in that one.” Lexa pointed at one house in particular, which displayed a leg lamp in the window.

Clarke laughed. “That’s an older gay couple. They love kitsch and of course, _A Christmas Story_ is their go-to this time of year. I’ll introduce you around when you get here. And God, I love saying that and thinking it. I love that you’re going to live so close.” She looked at her. “Does that freak you out?”

“Nope. I love it, too.” She did. So much.

Clarke leaned into her as they walked. “This is a great Christmas.”

“It’s at the top of my list.”

“Mine, too.” She paused, then continued, “There are a few other houses that I think you’d like and then we can go back to my house and watch a movie or have some coffee or… whatever.” She said it in a rush, maybe trying to avoid voicing the ramifications of Lexa staying the night, and what that could entail, given the greater comfort with physical intimacy between them.

“Sounds awesome. Let’s go check out the houses.”

They spent another thirty minutes doing that, and Clarke was right because Lexa did like the decorations and lights at these other houses, and they stood watching one for while, patterns of blue and white and red and green.

“Do you remember that spring formal we all went to junior year?” Clarke asked after a companionable silence.

“Yeah. I might’ve had too much to drink,” she said, tone wry.

Clarke chuckled. “You were so hung over the next day. But I wasn’t feeling great, either. Anyway, that dress you had on was seriously hot.”

She looked at her. “You remember that dress?”

“Fuck, yes. Black. Sleek. Cut up the left thigh. You had those hot black heels on, too.”

“Those fuckers were uncomfortable as hell, but they did look good.”

“Oh, my God, they looked _so_ good on you.” Clarke took her hand and started walking.

“And _you_ looked practically edible.”

“Am I to understand that you were looking at me, Ms. Woods?” she said with a wicked little smile.

“Duh. You wore that off-the-shoulder white dress with black trim and _your_ black heels—damn.”

“Glad you liked it,” she said with one of her little Clarke smirks.

“Yeah. I did. What made you think about that?” Although she was glad that Clarke had, and that she had appreciated how she had looked.

“Christmas. Because you bought that dress the Christmas before the formal. I asked to see it but you said no, you wanted to spring it on everybody.”

Lexa laughed. “What I meant was, I wanted to spring it on _you_.”

“Oh, my God. You were being a tease.”

“Yeah. I totally was. Did it work?”

“Jesus, you walked in wearing that and Raven had to smack me to quit staring at you. Which was probably a good thing because you were there with Costia.”

“That’s right. We had been dating a couple of months, then.” But she had wanted Clarke to see her in the dress, wanted Clarke to be affected. She had felt a little guilty about it then, since she was dating Costia, but she also knew that nothing was going to happen between her and Clarke. At least not then.

“She was cute,” Clarke said. “And quiet.”

Lexa smiled. “She was super jealous of you.”

She slowed down and looked at her. “What? Why?”

“Because she saw something between us that we of course had chosen to deny. She told me that night that she didn’t think she could compete with you.” Probably because Lexa hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off Clarke, rocking the dress she had worn, her hair up, eyes sparkling with warmth and humor. God, she had been into her even then.

Clarke sighed. “It’s not about competition. And I’m not going to go try to steal people’s partners.”

“I know that and you know that, but Costia wasn’t convinced. I didn’t tell you that because I didn’t want you to feel bad and I know you would’ve gone to talk to her to try to smooth things over.”

She laughed. “Okay, yeah, I would have.”

“Exactly.”

“Was that one of the reasons you two broke up? Besides all of the other issues?”

“Maybe. She didn’t say and I didn’t bring it up when it happened. Remember I told you when I was in law school that she had contacted me?”

“Oh, yeah. That was your second year.”

“Yes. We chatted off and on for a few weeks, then she stopped contacting me. But one of the things she asked was if you and I were together or had ever gotten together.” She chuckled. “She was surprised when I told her no.”

“Timing was off,” Clarke said softly and she squeezed Lexa’s hand, comforting. “But if she ever contacts you again and asks that question, she can feel all vindicated.”

“I don’t mind that at all.” She watched Clarke’s profile as they walked, thinking about how beautiful she was inside and out, and how she had carried that thought with her throughout their friendship. “Anyway, you were at that dance with Bridget. She wore a suit.”

“And she ended up dumping me two weeks later for what’s-her-name from one of my classes. Jenny. I never got her last name. Didn’t really care to.”

“That was low, ditching you like that.”

Clarke laughed softly. “I hadn’t been dating Bridget very long.”

“Still sucked.”

“Yeah, but you showed up at my place an hour after I texted you about it. You had a six-pack of my fave shitty beer and a pizza from my comfort food pizza place.”

She smiled at the memory, and how Clarke had stayed close to her that whole evening. That was another time they had slept in the same bed, Lexa comforting her, but in a way, Clarke had comforted her, too, because Lexa knew she could be herself around her, no matter the circumstances. “Well, I’m so glad we no longer drink shitty beer,” she said as they turned down the walk to Clarke’s porch.

Clarke laughed again as they took the steps. “The point is, you were there for me.” They stopped outside the front door, in the soft glow from the lights strung around her porch. “You’ve always been there for me. Whatever it was. Big stuff, small, stupid stuff. It didn’t matter. You were there.” She cupped Lexa’s cheek with her hand and the contact made her heart beat a little faster.

“Because I care.”

She smiled. “You’ve been a constant in my life since we met. Even when we weren’t in the same location, even when we were doing our own things, you’ve always been on my mind in some way.” She caressed her cheek. “And now here we are.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be.”

Clarke held her gaze for a moment, then kissed her, a warm, sweet recognition of the years between them, leading to this moment. The kiss deepened, and Lexa fell into it, into the sensation of Clarke’s lips and tongue and damn, it was like she was on fire, like something even deeper than she’d been feeling had ignited. Whatever it was, it had been pulling them together for years, like a lifeline.

Their kisses turned hungry, like the night before in the kitchen, and Lexa _ached_ for Clarke’s touch on her bare skin, wanted to show her what she’d been feeling all these years. Wanted to keep doing that every chance she got.

Clarke broke their kiss off, breath hot and fast against Lexa’s mouth, her forehead against hers. “I’m going to unlock the door,” she said softly. “But I’m not interested in a movie or coffee tonight.” Her palm was warm against Lexa’s cheek and God, to be near her like this was everything.

“So when I open this door,” Clarke said, voice still soft, “it’s not just because I want you in my space and close to me, it’s because I very much want to take you to bed. And I hope you’ll let me.”

Fireworks seemed to be going off up and down Lexa’s thighs and her heart was on a roller coaster, and she had never wanted anyone the way she wanted Clarke. She kissed her, urgent and maybe a little demanding, and Clarke responded in kind, both hands cupping Lexa’s face and Jesus, she was ready to undress right there on the front porch, in the cold night air.

Lexa pulled back a little. “Yes. Now open the door,” she said and Clarke’s gaze drilled into hers with an intensity she had only ever wished had been directed at her prior to this.

Clarke stepped away and got her keys out of her pocket, unlocked the door, and opened it. She went in first, gaze locked on Lexa’s, and when they were both inside, Lexa let her lock it behind them then kissed her again, even as she worked her coat off. Clarke pushed it off Lexa’s shoulders and Lexa let it drop to the floor but she then unzipped Clarke’s coat, which also ended up on the floor, along with scarves and hats.

Lexa managed to pull her sweater off between kisses and tossed it aside and Clarke immediately started working on the buttons of her shirt but Lexa interrupted her and tugged at the hem of Clarke’s sweater, which Clarke jerked over her head and Lexa took it and let it drop, still kissing her, and now Clarke was just in a tee and Lexa pushed her gently against the door and braced herself with her hands on either side of Clarke’s head and stared into her eyes.

God, she had wanted to do this for so long. Her thoughts were echoed in Clarke’s gaze and she leaned in and kissed her again, this time slow, wanting to savor the taste of her mouth and how it felt to be with her like this, after so many damn years.

She felt Clarke’s hands on her hips, then working again on the buttons of her shirt, also slow, a button at a time, and then she pulled it free of Lexa’s jeans and got the last button undone. Lexa stopped kissing her and held her gaze and there was a question in Clarke’s eyes. Lexa pushed away from her, took her hands, and guided them to her bare stomach and at her touch, she groaned softly.

How could anything feel so fucking good?

Clarke moved her hands to her back, so gentle, her fingers tracking heat everywhere they went as she mapped the lines of muscle along her spine. Lexa put her hands on Clarke’s hips, then moved them a little higher, under the hem of her tee, and rested her palms on her skin, so warm and soft. She kept her hands there, and looked into Clarke’s eyes, making sure she was okay.

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Keep going,” she said, voice with a different husky timbre than Lexa was used to hearing and God, it was sexy, especially directed at her. Fuck, everything about her turned her on. She moved her hands to Clarke’s stomach, then upward to just beneath her bra, then to her back and oh, what a tease this was. She wanted to feel so much more, wanted to be pressed against her, skin to skin, no barriers.

Clarke kissed her, this time hard, hot, and demanding, and she slid her tongue into Lexa’s mouth and oh, God, her underwear was on the way to being soaked. She ran her hands up Clarke’s back, then over her stomach, and from there, higher, but goddammit, Clarke’s tee wasn’t giving her much room.

And then Clarke pushed Lexa toward the stairs, still kissing her, but her hands were on Lexa’s belt now, and she managed to get it unfastened and then they were on the first steps and Lexa somehow got her shoes untied while kissing Clarke, and they both laughed as they struggled to get their shoes off.

Halfway up the stairs Clarke stopped and kissed her again and Lexa started to pull her tee off. Clarke helped and tossed it somewhere then pushed Lexa’s shirt off her shoulders and Lexa shrugged out of it then pulled Clarke hard against her.

She was so not prepared for how fucking good it felt, Clarke’s skin against hers, and her breath hitched and she kissed her like her life depended on it.

Clarke moaned against her mouth and held onto her, fingers digging into her back. “Lexa,” she whispered, and God, how good her name sounded in her mouth. “Bedroom. Now.”

No way was she going to refuse that, and Clarke grabbed her hand and pulled her to the top of the stairs and they were kissing again and somehow made it to the bedroom, even though Lexa’s brain was basically short-circuiting with the onslaught of sensations and emotions, but she moved her hands to Clarke’s bra strap at the same time Clarke started working on hers and Clarke laughed, a soft sound in the glow from the bedside lamp she had left on.

“Great minds,” she said and Lexa smiled and kissed her as she finished unfastening Clarke’s bra and Clarke stopped working on Lexa’s long enough to let the straps slide down her shoulders then her arms to the floor and Lexa’s breath caught in her throat, at seeing her like this.

Clarke smirked, this one sultry. “Worth the wait?” she teased.

“You have no idea.” She ran her fingertips gently across the tops of Clarke’s breasts, and the breathy sounds Clarke made only added more fuel to the heat at her core. “Lie down,” Lexa said and Clarke raised her eyebrows but did, and propped herself on her elbows. She held Clarke’s gaze as she undid her own bra and let it drop to the floor and the expression in Clarke’s eyes was all the invitation she needed.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Lexa said as she joined her on the bed and braced herself over her. Clarke bit her lip in that way she had, kind of a come hither, and Lexa leaned in and kissed her then lowered herself against her and they both groaned, a shared sound on each other’s lips.

“You feel incredible,” Clarke whispered against her mouth. “So much more incredible than I imagined. And I’m an artist and have a hella good imagination.”

Lexa grinned. “And how long have you been imagining this?” she teased.

“Too long.” She ran her fingers along Lexa’s jaw. “God, too long.”

She kissed her forehead then her mouth and gently bit down on Clarke’s lower lip. “I want to touch you.”

“Good. Because I want you to.”

She stopped kissing her, as hard as that was, and studied her face for a moment. “Please tell me if you don’t want or like something I’m doing.”

Clarke stroked her cheek. “Same goes for you.”

She smiled and kissed her neck then moved to her shoulder, the taste of her skin intoxicating and oh, the sounds Clarke made. Soft, breathy moans and now one of Clarke’s hands was in Lexa’s hair and the other was on her back and Lexa ran her lips across her chest just above her breasts.

Clarke groaned and her fingers dug into Lexa’s back.

She moved lower, gently sucking and kissing, attuned not only to her own arousal, but to Clarke’s, and the sounds she was making. She moved her mouth even lower, and closed her lips around Clarke’s nipple and teased it with her tongue and it hardened even more and God, her breasts were fucking beautiful.

“That feels so damn good,” Clarke managed with a gasp and Lexa moved her mouth to her other breast and Clarke groaned again and arched against her and then she was tugging at the button of Lexa’s jeans and she sat up and helped her undo them.

Lexa pushed them off her legs and onto the floor, her belt buckle hitting the floor rug with a dull metallic sound. Clarke had undone her own jeans and Lexa helped get them off and they joined hers on the floor, leaving her in cute blue boy shorts.

Clarke stared at her for a few moments. “You are so beautiful,” she said softly, and Lexa had never felt so desired, so safe, so completely turned on. “So come here,” Clarke added, smile equal parts sexy and tender. She held her hand out and Lexa kissed her fingertips then lowered herself against her again and oh, God.

She was so not prepared for the emotions that rocketed through her chest at how this felt, this expanse of Clarke’s skin bare against hers. Finally.

Clarke kissed her, hard and needy, and her hands were warm on her shoulders, back, and then lower and she was pushing at the waistband of her underwear. “As sexy as these are,” Clarke said, breathing heavily, “can we take them off?”

“Definitely.” Lexa pushed them down until she was able to kick them off and holy hell, Clarke was doing the same so Lexa moved to give her room and then she stopped, taking her in, breath frozen in her chest at the sight of her completely nude.

How was this even happening?

“You’re beyond beautiful,” Lexa said. “I’m kind of overwhelmed right now, seeing you like this.”

Concern flashed in Clarke’s eyes. “In a good way or a bad way? We can stop.”

“In a really, really good way.” She smiled, reassuring. “I don’t want to stop. I’m just—it’s like a dream, being here, and—” she hesitated, searching for words. “It’s…fuck, it’s everything.” And it was so much easier than she thought it would be, to be with her like this.

“Yes. It is.” Clarke ran her fingers from Lexa’s cheek to her shoulder, then down to her chest. She sat up a little so she could reach her with her mouth and oh, God, Clarke’s mouth on her breast—Lexa cupped the back of her head and pushed her gently to the mattress, but gave her room to work because holy hell, Clarke’s mouth on her breasts sent signals directly to her clit, and oh, God, she ached for her. _Ached_.

But Lexa took her time at first, exploring Clarke’s skin with her hands and mouth, learning her body and what she liked, loving how she responded and how they communicated through touch, shared gazes and smiles, and quiet words. Arousal and heat built quickly between them, raw-edged and demanding, and the throbbing between Lexa’s thighs was almost painful.

“I need to feel more of you,” Clarke said, breathing heavily, and she opened her thighs wider and Lexa settled between them and Clarke moaned, long and low. “Oh, God. Like that.”

She didn’t move right away, because Clarke against her like this was mind-blowing and every nerve in her body seemed to be focused on how wet Clarke was and how wet she was and she couldn’t remember ever being this wet.

Clarke stared up into her eyes. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

She nodded and braced herself with one arm and guided Clarke’s hand between them with the other. “Touch me,” she said softly, still staring into Clarke’s eyes, and she moved a little and braced herself on both hands and knees to make it easier.

Clarke’s gaze didn’t waver and she carefully, almost reverently, it seemed, cupped her, and she groaned softly. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” she said as she gently stroked, her fingers sliding through her folds.

“That’s the effect you have on me,” Lexa managed as her breathing sped up.

“I love it.” She continued stroking, and teased her entrance with her fingertips and Lexa was practically trembling, and could probably come right now.

Clarke withdrew her hand but Lexa didn’t have time to miss it because Clarke pulled her down against her and started to thrust, slowly at first. Lexa matched her rhythm as it increased, and Clarke braced her heels on the backs of Lexa’s thighs, while her hands roamed her lower back and oh, God, she was close. So damn close, her thighs and pussy slick with Clarke.

She slowed them down and kissed her, then slid her hand between them, watching Clarke’s eyes.

“Yes,” she said, and gripped her wrist and moved her hand right where Lexa wanted it to be and oh, God, she was wet. So fucking wet, and it only increased her own arousal as she lightly stroked, Clarke’s moans guiding her touch. Her fingertips moved past her entrance, teasing, then to her clit. She kept her motions slow and gentle, then increased her speed.

“Fuck, yes. Lexa—more. Please. God, you feel good.”

She stopped long enough to re-position herself so she could kiss her, too, and then she slid a finger in and Clarke groaned against Lexa’s mouth and her breath came in short bursts as she thrust against her hand.

Lexa added another finger and Clarke hissed between her teeth and was it possible to come just from touching someone like this? Because she was so turned on, with her fingers buried in Clarke’s wet heat and Clarke moaning and saying her name—fuck.

Clarke’s thrusts sped up and they were both panting now, sweat-slicked, muscles straining, tangled together, and Lexa felt like she might cry because this was some kind of paradise, this haze of emotion and desire between them. She used her thumb on Clarke’s clit as she continued to plunge her fingers deep inside and Clarke’s breath hitched.

“Lexa—I’m—”

“I’ve got you. I’m here.”

And she arched and clung to her, not moving, and then she released with a long, guttural groan, Lexa’s name on her lips as she collapsed onto the bed.

Lexa gathered her close with her free arm, still fighting an urge to cry as Clarke buried her face against her neck, trembling with after-shocks and God, there were feels spilling out of her heart everywhere and all she wanted to do was keep Clarke close and keep her safe every chance she got.

“Oh, my God,” Clarke said after a while, and Lexa felt her lips against her throat. “How are you so goddamn amazing?”

“You inspire me.”

“Mmm.” She moved so Lexa could pull out and then she kissed her, and it was like somebody poured fuel onto coals. “Jesus,” Clarke said as she pulled back a little, breathing hard. “I’m so turned on.”

Lexa smirked. “Again?”

“Still.” She ran her hands down Lexa’s back to her ass then up again.

“I’d better do something about that.”

“Yes, please.” Clarke smirked back and kissed her again and then Lexa worked her way down to her breasts and by the time she finished there, Clarke’s breathing had sped up even more and she was making the sexiest sounds, one of her hands on Lexa’s shoulder, the other in her hair.

Lexa went farther down, using her lips and tongue to map her abdomen, then lower than that, to the area right above the dark, neatly trimmed triangle of hair. She stopped and looked up, her gaze locking onto Clarke’s.

“I want to taste you,” she said.

“God, yes.”

And Lexa smiled and kissed the inside of her thigh then moved to her pussy, starting with slow kisses and oh, God, it was intoxicating, the way she moved and smelled of musk and sex and Lexa teased her slick folds with her tongue and the taste of her filled her mouth, and her own arousal soared.

“I love how wet you are.”

Clarke moaned. “I love that you make me that way.” She spread her thighs wider, both hands in Lexa’s hair and Lexa broadened her strokes, teased Clarke’s entrance, then used the tip of her tongue on her clit until Clarke was writhing against her, sighing and moaning again and fuck, she was so hot and so beautiful and so…everything.

“Oh, like that…yeah…fuck, Lexa. So good,” she said between breaths and Lexa loved that Clarke was vocal during sex, loved that she was comfortable enough with her to express herself that way.

“More,” Clarke said and Lexa was only too happy to comply, altering her strokes and tasting every part of her. “I—I need—”

Lexa knew exactly what she needed and she pushed her tongue inside and Clarke groaned and thrust against her, holding Lexa’s head, guiding her, but Lexa already sensed what she wanted, and moved her tongue to her clit then back to her entrance several times, strokes that increased in speed until Clarke let go of her head, arched, and cried out her name then collapsed again onto the bed.

She brought her down slowly, decreasing speed and pressure until Clarke’s breathing slowed a bit and she relaxed. Lexa kissed the insides of her thighs, and Clarke made a cute contented noise that was also somehow sexy. She tugged at Lexa’s upper arms, and Lexa took the hint and moved so Clarke could hug her.

Which she did, and she held on tight for a while.

“I don’t want to let go of you,” Clarke whispered against her cheek. “I’m afraid if I do, you’ll disappear, and this will just be a dream.”

And again, Lexa felt like she might cry. She turned her head and kissed her cheek. “I get it. So how about we think of it as a dream come true instead?”

She chuckled and shifted her position a little so she could look at her, and as Lexa watched, a tear slid down Clarke’s cheek.

Lexa gently kissed its path, even as tears gathered in her own eyes.

“I might be a little emotional,” Clarke said with a smile.

“Same here.” She cleared her throat a little and Clarke’s expression was full of warmth and tenderness as she wiped Lexa’s cheek, her touch soft and she hadn’t realized she was crying. “I don’t have the words for how I’m feeling right now.”

“Me either, but it’s everything,” Clarke said and Lexa smiled back.

“Yeah.” She studied Clarke’s gaze for a few moments, then kissed her forehead.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Clarke said as she wiped another tear from Lexa’s cheek.

“I don’t want to be anywhere else.” Lexa shifted her position a little so her full weight wasn’t on her and they lay like that for a while, sharing caresses and a comfortable silence.

Clarke broke it. “You make me feel _so_ fucking good,” she whispered and then she kissed her, a delicious, tender acknowledgement of what had just happened and Lexa wondered how she had lived without this.

“That was the plan.” She smiled and rolled onto her back.

“Well, I’m adapting it to one of my own.” She moved and straddled Lexa’s hips.

“I like it already.”

“I knew you would.” She leaned down and kissed her before she focused on her breasts and Lexa arched into her touch, into the feel of Clarke’s hands then her mouth and how was she both filled with heat but getting chills?

Clarke teased her nipples with her tongue and teeth. “You’re so goddamn sexy,” she said as she worked her way a little lower and down her abdomen, kissing and sucking and Lexa knew she was leaving marks, but she didn’t care, couldn’t even really form a thought in the midst of all the sensations her mouth and fingers generated. And Oh, God, Clarke put one of her thighs between Lexa’s and stretched out on her, still brushing kisses across her stomach but now one of her breasts was pressed against Lexa’s clit and Jesus, that was turning her on even more.

She moaned and ran her hands through Clarke’s hair. “Touch me,” she said with a gasp.

“That’s part of the plan.” And then Clarke moved again and when her lips brushed Lexa’s folds, she was pretty sure she almost levitated off the bed.

And then all she could do was spread her thighs and oh, God, Clarke’s lips and tongue…Lexa groaned again and thrust against her. “That feels so fucking good,” she managed and Clarke hummed against her clit and she almost came.

“I love the way you taste.”

Lexa gritted her teeth, trying not to unravel just yet.

“And I love how wet you are.”

“Your fault,” she managed.

“I gladly take full responsibility.” She blew on her folds and Lexa bit her lip.

“Clarke—”

“Mmm?”

“I need you inside.”

And holy hell she teased her entrance with her tongue then slid a finger in and oh, fuck—

Clarke added a finger and started thrusting, her tongue grazing Lexa’s clit and Lexa might have left the planet, the only thing tethering her to this plane Clarke’s fingers and mouth.

“Clarke—” she said as she somehow put one of her hands on Clarke’s head. “I’m so close—”

“I know. I’m right here.”

She couldn’t hold back anymore and she tensed as everything seemed to go still and then stars exploded silently in her head and she released, a hot, emotion-laden wave, fingers of her free hand intertwined with Clarke’s.

“I’m—not done yet—”

And Clarke hooked her fingers just right and continued thrusting while she backed off her clit a little and it was barely a matter of a few more seconds—

Fireworks in her head this time. All different colors, and she collapsed amidst a series of ripples and after-shocks. She lay panting, strands of her hair clinging to her sweat-dampened forehead, skin practically buzzing as she settled back into herself.

“Fucking hell,” she said with a smile and Clarke chuckled and kissed the area right above her pussy but she didn’t pull out and instead rested her head on Lexa’s stomach.

Lexa ran her fingers through Clarke’s hair with her free hand, thinking about their first meeting and the paths that had brought them here and maybe it should have scared her, the depth of this connection and its layers both physical and emotional, but it didn’t. Instead, it calmed her, and anchored her safely to Clarke’s shores.

Clarke turned her head and kissed Lexa’s belly then looked up at her and Lexa let go of her hand and nodded so she could pull out. She did, and with a cute little smirk she licked her fingers, wiped them on her own thighs then kissed her. The taste of them both filled Lexa’s mouth and somewhere in the back of her mind was the thought that she didn’t ever want to lose this, didn’t ever want to leave this new path.

“Remember when we first met?” Clarke asked as she settled against her, head on her shoulder, arm across her stomach.

“I was just thinking about that,” she said with a smile as she hugged her closer, marveling again at how well they fit together.

“You had your hair pulled back and you were wearing baggy black basketball shorts and a gray T-shirt. You and Octavia were hanging out at the student center a few days after classes started.”

“We had a couple of classes together and I guess she kind of liked me and decided to bring me into Polis crew.”

Clarke laughed. “We were still in the process of developing the crew. And yes, Octavia liked you because, she told me, you’re not a bullshitter.”

“Oh? She said that?’

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“The day you and I met, after you went to class.” She was quiet for a while and Lexa closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of Clarke’s skin and the sound of her breathing.

“I liked your smile,” Clarke said. “It was genuine. And, okay, I had a thing for your eyes.”

She laughed. “My eyes?”

“Yeah. They’re beautiful, and when I look at them, I see _you_.” She moved closer, as if that was possible. “You have honest eyes.”

“And you have a lot of warmth and depth in yours. And just so we’re clear, I totally checked you out when we first met.”

Clarke’s shoulders shook with laughter.

“Seriously. I mean, look at you. Killer eyes, killer smile…you’d have to be dead not to.”

“And what did _you_ think?”

“That you were beautiful. And cute. You were wearing baggy guy-cut jeans with one of the knees ripped out and you had on that pair of blue Converse sneakers that I could tell were probably among your fave shoes because they were pretty well-worn. And okay, you looked fucking hot in that T-shirt. Black scoop-neck.”

“Aww. You noticed,” she teased and she traced patterns on Lexa’s hip.

“Again, refer to dead person comment.” She kissed her forehead, remembering how Clarke smiled at her when Octavia introduced them, and how her name sounded when Clarke said it.

“Octavia also told me you were single.”

Lexa adjusted her position slightly so she could look down into Clarke’s eyes. “Seriously?”

She nodded, smiling.

“So she’s basically been trying to hook us up—”

“Since the beginning, yes. Raven started doing it right after she met you.”

“What did she say?”

“That I should ask you out.”

Lexa smiled. “She said I should ask _you_ out. So did Octavia.”

“And thus started a Polis crew tradition,” Clarke said with a long-suffering tone.

“But ultimately, they were right.”

“They totally were. And they’re going to gloat about it for months.”

She laughed. “It’s because they care.”

Clarke didn’t say anything for a few moments, but she pressed her lips to Lexa’s shoulder. “So do I.” She braced herself on her elbow and looked down into her eyes. “I care about you so much.” She caressed her cheek, vulnerability in her expression.

Lexa covered her hand with her own. “It’s mutual.” She pulled Clarke’s hand to her lips and kissed her palm. “ _So_ mutual.”

Clarke stared at her for a few seconds, kissed her, then sat up.

Lexa frowned.

“Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Not a chance.” She smiled as Clarke got up and left and she could hear her move down the hall to the bathroom and she sighed, happy, and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds then fixed the blankets and God, she loved that the sheets and pillows smelled like the both of them, now.

She heard her returning from the bathroom and she pulled the covers back for her and when Clarke had gotten into bed, she gave her a quick kiss.

“My turn. Be right back.”

Clarke kissed her again. “Promise?”

“Promise.” She went to the bathroom, thinking that it felt like they’d been together like this a lot longer than just a few days. She finished and hurried back to the bedroom and slid under the covers and before she could say anything, Clarke pulled her close and the expression in her eyes—Lexa gave her one of her teasing smirks.

“Did you miss me?” She bit down lightly on Clarke’s lower lip, only too aware of her breasts pressed against hers, and the heat gathering between her thighs again.

“Definitely.” She smirked back. “And since you’re here…” she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Mmm. I was thinking the same thing. So let’s do this, Griffin.”

“Let’s.” And Clarke kissed her like she hadn’t seen her in weeks, like she was the best thing in her life.

God, she wanted to be that. So much.

Clarke stopped kissing her and stared down into her eyes, one of her ultra-sexy half-smiles on her lips. “Merry Christmas, Woods.”

She grinned. “Merry Christmas back.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“Celebrate.” And Lexa kissed her again and Clarke started moving against her and oh, yes, merry…fucking...Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously. I cannot write Clexa smut without feels.
> 
> Merry Clexmas, y'all. :)
> 
> Thanks for your patience, everybody, after I got all behind during my illin'. I'm on the road next week, so I may be delayed on Chapter 13 but don't worry. It's on its way!
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://www.andimarquette.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/andimarquette) if you feel so inclined.


	13. The JBF Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Clexa morning after, then some Christmas Day time with Abby and of course, a bit more Clexmas time.

Clarke stirred, then opened her eyes to morning sunlight. Lexa was spooning her, and God, the way it felt to have her naked against her like this—she bit her lip, thinking about the previous night and yes, she was sore, but damn, she wanted more.

She put her hand over Lexa’s where it rested against her stomach and thought about the past few days. Everything in her world had shifted, but it had been so easy, like something had finally clicked into place, and it seemed perfectly natural, Lexa moving back to Polis and living so close, though everything had happened in the space of a few days.

Lexa made a super cute little noise and kissed the back of Clarke’s neck.

She smiled and squeezed her hand.

“Morning,” Lexa said softly, voice still rusty with sleep. She tightened her grip around her and kissed her again, this time on her shoulder.

“And good morning to you.” She turned over so she could look at her and God, she was beautiful, with her hair falling in messy waves around her shoulders and the deep green of her eyes in the morning light. “I like this look on you.”

She smirked. “The JBF look?”

Clarke grinned. “I wasn’t going to say it, but yes. This whole Just Been Fucked thing looks really good on you.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“And, of course, it’s even better because I’m responsible for it.”

Lexa laughed. “Oh, okay. Do I need to remind you who’s responsible for yours?”

“I’m completely aware of that.” She gave her a sultry smile. “Because it’s all you.” And then she kissed her and she tasted like last night and Lexa rolled them over so Clarke was on top and their kisses heated quickly and she forgot that she was sore and didn’t think about anything except Lexa underneath her, and Lexa’s thigh thrusting against her pussy just right and her hands on her tits and oh, fuck…

“Just like that,” Clarke barely managed. “Jesus, Lexa.” So close, in what seemed like a short time, too. She stared into her eyes, seeing reflected in them the feelings she couldn’t yet articulate and she stopped for a few moments, holding her gaze. Then Clarke kissed her as she started moving again and her release built even faster, spiraling through her core and down her legs and she cried out, sparks floating behind her eyelids, Lexa’s thigh slick between hers.

“Lexa,” Clarke whispered, trembling and on the verge of collapse.

“Right here.” She gently pulled her close and Clarke relaxed as her breathing slowed, thinking that yes, Lexa _was_ here, and soon she’d be practically around the corner and they could have so much more time together.

And this train of thought was particularly feels-generating.

“Merry Christmas Day,” Lexa said softly, and Clarke kissed her as she trailed her fingers down Lexa’s abdomen then lower. Lexa kissed her harder and guided her hand even lower, urgent, and God, she was wet. Clarke stroked her, gently at first, and Lexa’s responses to her made her wet again, too, and fuck, this was going to be an endless feedback loop of arousal.

Not that she was complaining.

She slid two fingers in and Lexa groaned into her mouth and all Clarke wanted to do was make sure she felt as good as she did. She started slow because Lexa might be as sore as she was, but Lexa sped things up, her hand on Clarke’s, and God, that was hot.

Lexa’s other hand was cupping the back of her neck, tongue in her mouth, and then she arched and Clarke thrust a couple more times and Lexa’s hand gripped her shoulder as she came and her other hand held on to her wrist and she groaned, then fell back onto the mattress, breathing heavily.

“Damn,” she said after a few moments. “That was hot. And amazing. And amazingly hot.”

Clarke chuckled. “Agree.” She settled against her, head on Lexa’s shoulder and breathed her in, loving how she smelled like them both.

Lexa squeezed her wrist and Clarke pulled out and again, Lexa gathered her close and sighed, a gentle, contented sound and Clarke could tell she was smiling and fuck, everything was incredible.

“I thought I’d add to the whole JBF thing,” Clarke said and Lexa chuckled.

“And I so appreciate it.” She stroked Clarke’s head and Clarke closed her eyes. Nothing felt as good as being with her like this.

“I really love this Christmas,” Clarke said after a while.

“Mmm. So do I.”

She wanted to say that she would like a repeat next Christmas, but that might be a little presumptuous. But God, it was a nice thought, and she was entirely comfortable and excited about it. But for now, she’d stay in the present and take all the time she could with Lexa. And shit, what time was it, actually? She forced herself to pull away and reach for her phone. When she checked its clock, she groaned, rolled over toward Lexa again and gave her a quick kiss, then sat up.

“As much as I absolutely hate leaving this bed right now, I have to deal with making a pie.”

“Pretty sure that’s the first time anybody has ever said that to me.”

Clarke laughed and leaned down for another kiss. “I’m going to shower. It’s already after ten.”

“Shit. Is that enough time to actually make and bake a pie before we leave?”

“We’ll find out.” She kissed her yet again and forced herself to get out of bed and grab her robe. Her phone rang. “That’s my mom.”

“Nice timing,” Lexa said with that fucking sexy little smirk she had and Clarke stared at her, the phone still ringing.

“Um. Phone?” Lexa said.

She smiled. “You’re too fucking distracting.” She answered with one hand while trying to get her robe on with the other. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“Hi, honey. Just confirming. You’ll be here around two, right?”

“That’s the plan.” Clarke blew a kiss at Lexa and then stared again because she sat up and the sheet fell away, revealing her breasts. “Jesus,” she whispered.

“What?” Abby said.

“Uh—nothing. So did you need us to bring anything else?”

Lexa flashed her another smirk and got out of bed and oh, God. Clarke tried to look away, but she couldn’t. Lexa raised an eyebrow and pointed at one of the marks on her own stomach, evidence of what had happened the night before. Clarke held the phone against her chest.

“None are visible unless you’re naked. Like now,” she said, almost in a whisper, and Lexa laughed. She put her phone back to her ear.

“Did you say something?” Abby asked.

“Sorry. Lexa asked me something.”

Lexa grinned and shook her head and Clarke went to her closet and grabbed another robe, this one shorter and lighter-weight. She handed it to her and Lexa put it on, unfortunately.

“I see,” Abby said, and Clarke heard the teasing in her voice.

She knew she was blushing and Lexa was trying not to laugh. “So did you need anything else?”

“No. I think we’re all good. Let me know when you leave, though.”

“Okay. See you in a bit.”

“Yes. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye.” Clarke ended the call and mock-glared at Lexa. “Really?”

She gave her an innocent look.

“Stop tempting me.”

“I’m just standing here.”

“Temptation enough.” Clarke tossed her phone onto the bed. “And as much as I want your company in the shower, I’m rain checking on that, too, because you are just too damn distracting and the pie will not get made.”

“There are worse things,” Lexa said, and the glint in her eyes was trouble of the best kind.

“Dammit, Woods.” She kissed her. “I’m now going to shower.”

“You sure?”

No, she wasn’t. And that was made abundantly clear when she pulled Lexa into another kiss and Lexa slid her hands inside her robe, her palms warm on her hips. “One of us needs to be a responsible adult right now,” Clarke said, breathing already speeding up.

Lexa grinned. “Are you saying it’s not going to be you?”

“Doubtful.” She stroked her cheek. “I seriously cannot get enough of you.”

“Likewise.” And oh, God, the look in her eyes. Warm, adventurous, hopeful—everything she was feeling. And then Lexa kissed her gently on the cheek. “I’ll be the responsible one. Go shower. But we’ll definitely take this up later.”

“Damn right we will.” She held Lexa’s gaze for a few more moments then left, but before she went to the bathroom, she stood at the top of the stairs and smiled at the sight of their clothing decorating various steps and the floor below, a reminder of how the night before had started and fuck, she needed to move along now before she got any more ideas, so she went to the bathroom, wishing they didn’t have to be anywhere, but on the other hand, she thought as she got into the shower, she really wanted to take Lexa to her mom’s. Which was weird, because Lexa had known Abby for years.

But there was something about what was happening between them that made seeing her mom extra special, weighted with extra importance.

She finished in the shower then went to get dressed. Lexa had made the bed and cleaned up the clothing from the stairs because she had folded Clarke’s and left it at the foot of her bed. She was probably already downstairs and Clarke really liked that she was in her house. She put on comfie faded jeans, tee, and a baggy gray fisherman’s sweater and then her new necklace and she was about to tuck it into her shirt when she stopped and studied it for a few moments, wondering what it was about it that spoke to her and why it made her think of the tower. She tucked it into her tee, put her slippers on, and went to do her hair and by the time she got downstairs, it was pushing eleven and she chewed her lip because that was probably not enough time to make a decent apple pie, even with Lexa helping. Fuck.

But once she got downstairs, she smiled because Lexa was in the kitchen and it sounded like she was listening to a podcast. Or the news. Clarke hoped it wasn’t that, and as she got closer, she smiled in relief because it was a podcast, the voices emanating from her phone on the kitchen island and Clarke liked that Lexa listened to podcasts, liked that even with all the years they’d know each other that there were still things to discover about each other.

Oh, God. Massive case of heart eyes.

“Hi,” Lexa said when Clarke came in. She was wearing baggy sweats and a tee. She picked up a cup from the counter and poured coffee into it and handed it to her and from the color, Lexa had already put some cream in it. She sipped. Perfect.

And then she looked around. “What—oh, my God. You already did all the prep?” She automatically took inventory. Bowl of brown sugar, bowl of regular sugar, bowl of flour, butter, nutmeg, cinnamon, baking powder, vanilla extract—she frowned. “The apples.”

Lexa laughed and she turned the podcast off. “You noticed. I chopped them rather than sliced.”

“Okay...”

“I figured that we probably didn’t have time to do pie, so how about cobbler?”

Clarke set her cup down and hugged her. “You’re the best. I was stressing a little.”

“I figured.” Lexa gave her a quick kiss and released her and Clarke got a hint of the coffee she’d been drinking from her lips, along with toothpaste. She’d no doubt found that along with the new toothbrush and fresh towels she’d set out in the downstairs bathroom.

“Is this Indra’s recipe?”

“It’s one she uses. It’s pretty fast prep, which makes up for the forty-five minutes of baking time. I’ve already got the oven preheating. Speaking of, the last of the leftover pizza for breakfast. Or brunch. It’s in the oven.”

She laughed. “Nothing better on Christmas.”

“Time saver,” Lexa said with a shrug, and her eyes sparked with humor. “Want to assemble this thing?” She gestured at the ingredients.

“Definitely. Tell me what to do.”

“That could have so many meanings,” Lexa said behind the rim of her coffee cup.

“And we just might have to explore them.” She flashed her a grin and washed her hands.

“Well. Okay, then. Let’s…ah…melt butter.”

“Literally or figuratively?” She smirked at her.

Lexa’s smile widened. “Right now, literally. Later…” she shrugged and smirked back.

“Leaving your options open. I like that.” She put a small pot on the stove and unwrapped the stick of butter that had been with all the ingredients Lexa had set out. While she worked on that, Lexa combined the apples, brown sugar, and some of the flour in a bowl then squeezed a fresh lemon over a tablespoon that she held over a much smaller bowl. Once full, she dumped the lemon juice into the bowl with the apples then went to work squeezing the lemon again for another tablespoon.

Done with the lemon juice, Lexa set the apple bowl aside then stirred the rest of the flour and a few other ingredients into a separate bowl. “Ready for the butter.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls,” Clarke teased.

“This from the woman who left me naked in bed for a pie.”

“Which turned out to be a cobbler,” Clarke said as she poured the now liquid butter into the bowl with the apples.

“Wait. Who the fuck is this cobbler? And how is that still a thing?”

Clarke laughed. “Oh, my God, stop. I’m pouring hot liquid.” She finished, still laughing, and Lexa, grinning, handed her a rubber spatula to get as much out of the pot as she could. That done, she used the spatula to toss the ingredients and Lexa moved the baking dish closer to her so she could empty the mixture into it.

She spread it evenly around the dish then picked up the bowl with the rest of the dry ingredients and poured it carefully over the apple mixture then gently evened it out with a dry wooden spoon, taking care not to mix the two layers together.

“God, you’re the best,” Clarke said when she finished.

“I’m hoping you only say that to _some_ of the girls.” Lexa said with a smile as she picked up the cobbler and put it in the oven.

“Only _one_ of them in particular.” Clarke waited until Lexa took the pan of pizza out and set it on the top of the stove before she grabbed her into a hug from behind and peppered the side of her face and neck with kisses, which made her laugh.

“Thank you,” Clarke said. “You saved Christmas Day.”

Lexa squeezed Clarke’s hands where they rested on her stomach. “Your mom would’ve understood.”

“Oh, yeah. ‘Sorry, Mom, I finally got Lexa into bed and, well, you know how these things go’.”

Lexa laughed again and turned around to face her. “Finally got me into bed? So…you’ve been planning this booty call for a while, then?” Her tone was full of teasing warmth.

Clarke kissed her, a sweet, gentle meeting of lips. “You are so much more than a booty call,” she said softly. “So much more.”

Lexa cupped her cheek and kissed her again, this one just as gentle as the last, and when it ended, Clarke rested her forehead against Lexa’s.

“Last night was…God, it was everything,” she said. “And I don’t want it to be a one-off. That’s not what I’m interested in.” Maybe she shouldn’t have said that, but fuck, they’d been building to this moment for years, it seemed.

“It’s not a one-off for me, either. It was never about that where you’re concerned.”

Clarke’s heart felt like it might burst from all the feels.

“And I don’t want to freak you out. I know this is still new and there are things to think about, and things we’ll talk about, but don’t worry about it now.”

“I’m not.” She smiled. “Because it’s you.” And God, the look in Lexa’s eyes. It had only been a dream prior to this, that she would see that expression directed at her and Jesus, she felt like she might cry.

Lexa hugged her again and Clarke held on, wrapped in her arms, and could they stay like this all day?

“I forgot to put the timer on,” Clarke said. “Somebody distracted me again.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes. Thirty more.”

“See? You’re the best.” She took her phone out and programmed the timer.

Lexa chuckled. “Have a piece of pizza with me and then I’ll go shower.”

Clarke got plates out, thinking she should probably put a shower in the downstairs bathroom. These older houses generally only came with one, but people added where they could, and the previous owner had re-done the bathroom upstairs (thankfully) and put in a basic bathroom downstairs, but sometimes it wasn’t a bad thing to have two bathrooms with working showers. And maybe some day she’d have a big master bedroom with a bathroom in it.

She set the plates on the island and was it weird that she envisioned Lexa sharing that master bedroom with her? That was getting way too ahead of herself. She moved so Lexa could put two pieces on each plate and by the time they finished, the cobbler was slated to be done in about ten minutes.

“Go shower,” Clarke said as she put the plates in the dishwasher.

“You got this? I put a lot of stuff out.” Lexa gestured at the counters.

“Yes. It’s all good.”

Lexa split the last of the coffee between them. “What should I wear?”

“Casual.” Clarke gestured at herself. “This is what I’m wearing.”

“Awesome.” She grinned and gave her a kiss and left, carrying her cup, and Clarke watched her, wondering if it was possible to be in love with someone after admitting an attraction only a few days ago.

Who was she kidding? It was more than just that. It had always been more than that. They had always clicked, and there had always been underlying sparks even as they tried to deny them.

Maybe she had always been in love with her.

The thought should have freaked her out, but it didn’t. It felt warm and deep and completely logical, given their shared history and the trajectories their lives had taken.

How could she not be in love with her?

She smiled as she finished cleaning up, deciding this was one of those things that she’d let marinate for a bit, but she fully intended to reveal it once she got more comfortable with it. Right now, everything was amazing and she wanted to just enjoy Lexa’s company before she went back to New York.

Which was going to suck, but it wouldn’t be for long.

Her smile, she decided, might be permanent.

###

“Wow, this almost _never_ happens, Clarke said as she parked just a few doors down from Abby’s townhouse. “I don’t think I’ll ever move my car, just to keep this space.”

“Christmas magic.” Lexa flashed her a smile and got out. Clarke went around to help her carry things, but she already had the hot food tote out of the car in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other.

Clarke locked up and took the wine and Lexa took her free hand.

“All good?” she asked and Clarke smiled.

“Yeah. It feels different, though.”

She smiled, too. “Like I’m meeting her for the first time?”

“Yeah. Which doesn’t make sense.” But it did feel like that.

“In a way, it kind of _is_ like that.” She squeezed her hand.

“Why, though?”

“Because she hasn’t seen us interacting…you know. Like we like each other.”

Clarke laughed. “Do you mean we _like_ like each other?”

“Exactly. I mean, I _like_ like you, Clarke,” she said, resurrecting her Valley Girl accent.

“Omigod, like, really?”

“Fer sure. Totally.”

“So awesome.” Clarke grinned and kissed her then took her hand and they walked the few meters to the steps that led up to Abby’s door, where Clarke paused before she rang the bell.

“It is okay with you if we tell her the Secret Santa story?”

“Hell, yes. I figured we would.”

Clarke grinned again and Lexa gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze before Clarke pulled her hand away and rang the doorbell. She looked at Lexa, who smiled in a way that made her feel like everything was okay, and that it would continue to be okay.

The door opened—okay, it actually was flung open—to reveal Abby, wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and a huge smile. Her hair was pulled back and her reading glasses were perched on her head.

“Hi, Mom—”

“Hugs,” Abby said before she finished and she had to hold the wine bottle out of the way as Abby did exactly that with her then Lexa and Clarke relaxed immediately.

Abby took the tote from Lexa. “Pie?”

“Cobbler,” Clarke said. “Lexa’s recipe via Indra.”

“Oh, excellent. Put your coats in the downstairs office then come to the kitchen. I’ve got some stuff going on in there and we are just about ready to eat. Perfect timing.”

Lexa smiled. “Is this a mad scientist kind of Christmas?”

Abby laughed. “To be determined. Do you want wine?”

Lexa glanced at Clarke, who nodded.

“Go ahead. I’ll drive.”

“If you change your mind about that, you can always spend the night,” Abby said. “See you in the kitchen.” She took the wine from Clarke and left with that and the tote.

Lexa took her shoes off then her coat and scarf and Clarke draped them over her arm.

“Go get some wine. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay.” She gave her a quick kiss and even something like that sent sparks down her spine.

Clarke removed her own shoes then took the coats to the room Abby used as an office and set them on the upholstered chair in the corner. A thick area rug covered the wood flooring, its vibrant blues and greens a nice counterpoint to the off-white walls. Abby preferred clean, urban chic lines in her living spaces, and it showed in here, but there was also warmth in her color choices, and warmth in the energy that suffused this place, where she had moved after Clarke started college.

In the years since, Clarke had come to learn more about her mom by the way she lived her life in this townhome, and it had been a revelation both painful and intriguing, seeing her outside her identity as her dad’s wife after his death, and trying to negotiate the turbulence between them since.

They had both come a long way, Clarke thought, staring at the framed photo Abby kept on her desk of the three of them when Clarke was ten. They were all smiling and goofing off on a California beach and Clarke remembered that another tourist had offered to take the photo for them. Entirely unscripted, their reactions, and she had always loved this photo, an unguarded moment. Her dad with his larger-than-life grin and her mom, laughing at something he had said.

And there she was, in her swimsuit with cartoon dolphins all over it, Jake crouched next to her, arm around her waist while Abby stood behind her, hand protectively on her shoulder.

She heard Lexa and Abby talking in the kitchen, and she smiled, because Lexa had always had an easy rapport with her. She had said once it was because she didn’t have the past with Abby that Clarke did, which allowed Abby to not get hung up on baggage. She ran her fingertips over the picture’s frame, wishing Jake could’ve met Lexa, then went to the kitchen, where Abby had clearly poured a glass of wine for Lexa, because she was leaning against the counter with it.

“It smells really good in here,” Clarke said as she took a can of sparkling water out of the fridge.

“Honey, do you want some coffee or tea or something?” Abby asked from the stove, where she was checking a pan.

“Not right now—wait. Did you seriously make lasagna?” She joined her at the stove.

Abby smiled. “I did. Because it’s Christmas and why the hell not? It has spinach in it, so we’ve got a nice Christmas color scheme going with it.”

“I fully support Christmas lasagna,” Lexa said and she raised her wine glass.

“Same. This is the best.” Clarke inhaled deeply and God, it smelled good. “What can I do?”

“Not much,” Abby said as she finished slicing into the lasagna. “The bread is ready to go and I already roasted some vegetables. If you could get the plate of tomatoes and mozzarella out of the fridge and put it on the table, that would be good. And fill the little dipping bowls.”

“Do you want the vegetables out, too?” Lexa set her glass down and joined them at the stove.

“I think…yes,” Abby said. “Everything’s done. Let’s eat.” She used potholders to carry the pan to the table while Lexa got two oven mitts and took the dish of vegetables out of the oven.

“Got it?” Clarke asked, holding the plate of sliced tomatoes and fresh mozzarella.

“Yep.” She flashed her a cute little smile and went out into the dining area, which was right off the kitchen.

“Is Marcus coming?” Clarke asked as she set the plate down on the table, a square four-top that could be expanded to six if Abby felt like it. Lexa put the vegetables on one of the trivets already out.

“He’ll be over later this evening, but that’s it for my Christmas company this year. I wanted something low-key, with the people most important in my life.”

“Aww. That’s sweet, Mom.” Clarke gave her a half-hug.

“You’re included in that, Lexa,” Abby said with a smile, and Clarke exchanged a surprised look with her. “You’ve always been special to Clarke. Don’t think I haven’t noticed over the years, as private as Clarke can be about some things.” She kissed Clarke on the side of her head and released her then scanned the table. “Bread. Be right back.”

“Oh, my God,” Clarke said, but she smiled.

Lexa handed her the decanter of olive oil. “Indra says the same thing to me. I thought I was being all stoic and secret when it came to you, but…guess not.”

“Well, it worked around me, your secret-ness.” She carefully poured olive oil into each of the three little dishes Abby had set out, and each already had dried herbs and some spices in them.

“But did it?” Lexa held her gaze for a moment, and her ultra-sexy half-smile made Clarke’s heartbeat speed up. “All the years? You never once wondered if I might be interested in more?” she teased.

A flush heated her neck. “Fine. I just didn’t want to hope too much.”

Her smile widened and she was about to say something else when Abby emerged from the kitchen with a basket of bread.

“Damn, Mom, how long have you been working on this?” She set the decanter down.

“It’s not a big deal. I made the lasagna last night and got a lot of things done this morning.”

“Are you kidding? This is amazing,” Lexa said, still standing. “Sit down. I’ll get the wine. And Abby, do you want water?”

“Yes, actually. Pitcher in the fridge.”

“Clarke? You good?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

“Be right back.” Lexa went back to the kitchen and Abby sat down while Clarke started to serve lasagna.

“So,” she said, looking up at her with a teasing smile. “Things seem to be going well.”

She smiled back. “Yes. They are. And hold on, we’ll tell you more in a bit.”

“Excellent. Because I’m picking up some really happy vibes from you.”

She hoped she couldn’t see the new blush that was working its way up her neck as she put a piece of lasagna onto Abby's plate and then one on Lexa’s. She had just served herself when Lexa returned, carrying two glasses of water. She had the wine bottle under her arm, positioned so that it wouldn’t spill.

“Refill?” she asked Abby after she set the water down.

“Yes, please. I’m not driving anywhere, I’m not on call, and I informed work that I am not to be disturbed.”

“Right on, Mom,” Clarke said as she sat down and served herself some vegetables before handing the spoon to Abby, who sat to her left. Lexa finished pouring wine in Abby’s glass then sat down on Clarke’s right and her knee bumped Clarke’s leg under the table. Clarke caught her eye and Lexa raised an eyebrow, the look in her eyes making heat pool between her thighs.

“I’m doing the same,” Lexa said. “No office yesterday or today.”

“Which is weird for you, workaholic lawyer.”

“This Christmas is particularly important,” Lexa said with a shrug and she nudged Clarke’s leg with hers.

“ _That_ says something,” Abby teased.

“Well, I’m definitely worth it.” Clarke raised an eyebrow and took some tomatoes and mozzarella off the plate.

Both Lexa and Abby laughed.

“No argument here,” Lexa said and she handed the basket of bread to Clarke.

Clarke took a piece and dipped it into her dish of olive oil. “This is great,” she said. “I love this.”

“It’s delicious.” Lexa took another bite of lasagna. “Thanks for the invitation.”

Abby snorted. “You’re pretty much family, after all these years.”

Clarke nudged Lexa’s foot with her own.

“And how many years is that, anyway?” Abby took another piece of bread. “I was trying to figure it out. You met…sophomore year? Or was it freshman?”

“Sophomore,” they said together and Abby smiled.

“That’s practically a decade.” She took a sip of wine. “And with that as a segue, what changed?”

Clarke barely managed to swallow the bite she had just taken.

Lexa glanced at her, then back at Abby. “We finally realized that we _like_ like each other.”

Clarke laughed, and quickly took a drink of water.

Abby smiled and sipped her wine again. “Clarke said I’d get the story. Is that still a go?”

Lexa looked at her, a question in her eyes, and Clarke nodded for her to start. “Yes. So basically, what happened is that both of us decided that this Christmas was going to be when we admitted how we felt.”

“Totally independently of each other,” Clarke added. “We both had a Secret Santa thing planned out.”

“Oh, this is going to be a good story,” Abby said as she took another bite of lasagna. “Keep going.”

“Demanding much?” Clarke teased and Abby shrugged, still smiling. “So I started working on my Secret Santa thing for Lexa in August.”

“I got mine planned out around September or so.” She looked at Clarke. “Go ahead.”

“So on the sixteenth, I got something in the mail.” She took her phone out and scrolled through her photos then leaned over and showed Abby.

Abby took her reading glasses off her head and put them on. “Oh, my. Mysterious.”

“Especially since it was mailed from Texas.”

Abby looked at Lexa.

“Anya helped,” she said.

“Subterfuge. I like it. So what happened when you went to the coffee house?” Abby asked, looking at Clarke again.

“Well, apparently Lexa had arranged for Niylah to make me a cappuccino and give me another card.” She scrolled to another photo and Abby looked at it.

“Did you use an actual typewriter?”

Lexa nodded. “Clarke knows my handwriting and I didn’t want to get somebody else to hand-write these because then she’d spend days wondering whose handwriting it was.”

Abby chuckled. “Yes, she would.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “So then I went to the antique store with the key and Tristan gave me a wooden box to open. And here’s what I found inside.” She showed her another photo with the card that had been in the box.

“You love that store,” Abby said as she studied the photo. She looked up at Lexa. “Well done.”

“I figured if she kept following the instructions, then she was interested.”

“Oh, my God,” Clarke said with another eyeroll. “I did think it might be some crazy stalker. I talked it through with Harper, who guessed what was going on and she said she thought it might be you, and I really hoped it was, because it felt like something you would do.”

“But of course you second-guessed yourself,” Abby said and she handed her phone back and took another bite of lasagna.

“Maybe a little.”

Lexa smirked and finished what was left on her plate.

“Okay, whatever, I hoped it was Lexa, but you never know.”

Abby raised her eyebrows. “But you didn’t say anything to her?”

“No. Clarke should be in national security or something because she can keep secrets like nobody else.” Lexa smiled. “So I got into town the evening of the sixteenth, and I’m wondering if Clarke got the first card.”

“I went to the pub that night for dinner and Lexa showed up.”

“I came in and looked around and…it was really good to see you.”

“Yeah. It was.” She took Lexa’s hand, a perfectly natural gesture now, then remembered where she was, but she didn’t let go and Abby’s smile only widened.

“Anyway,” Lexa continued, “I hoped she got it in time. Because that would suck, asking her to show up at Niylah’s the morning of the seventeenth if she got the card that day or the day after. Secret Santa fail.”

Abby laughed.

“But she _did_ go to Niylah’s. So I had to pretend that I didn’t know she was doing the tasks. Niylah alerted me and then Tristan, so I knew she got the last card, but I didn’t know for sure if she’d follow through. That’s a pretty big ask, to show up that late at a park.”

“I’m sure Clarke decided she was going to do some surveillance before she did.” Abby took another piece of bread then handed the basket to Clarke, who took one, too. So did Lexa.

“I figured she would, but things didn’t quite work out that way.”

Abby cocked her head, puzzled.

“The morning of the day of Clarke’s show, I had to go to DC for a meeting that got moved up. I got my coat and realized there was something in the pocket.” She took her phone out. “Can I show her?”

Clarke nodded, and a bunch of feels started circulating through her chest.

Lexa got up and went around to Abby’s side of the table. “This is what it was.”

Abby put her glasses on again and took the phone. “Oh, my. Is that a painting? Turned into a puzzle?”

“Yes.”

“That’s downtown Polis,” she said, looking over at Clarke.

“Yeah.”

“It’s based on a photo from our sophomore year.”

Clarke looked at her, surprised, and Lexa held her gaze and a half-smile raised the corner of her mouth.

“I remember when you took it. I was there, and so was Raven. We were going to meet Octavia for burgers at Barnaby’s.”

“That’s exactly what we were doing,” Clarke said, and she loved that Lexa had made the connection. “Anyway, I managed to slip the card into Lexa’s coat the night before. She came by the gallery before we had our get-together with the crew at the pub. The next day, she didn’t say anything, and I thought maybe she didn’t get it.”

“Which of course sent you into one of your spinning gears reactions.” Abby handed Lexa’s phone back. “This is sounding like a romantic comedy.”

“Right?” Clarke smiled and finished the last bite of her lasagna.

“More?” Abby asked with a gesture at the pan.

“A little.”

Abby served her a small piece. “Lexa?”

“Sure,” she said as she sat down. “About as much as Clarke’s piece.” She handed Abby her plate and when she got it back, she set it down and took Clarke’s hand. “Back to the story. I have this quirk,” she said to Abby, “and I prefer to say important things in person. But in this case, I should have given Clarke some kind of positive sign that I had gotten her card. But I thought she maybe was focusing on her show, too, and I didn’t want to distract her.”

“Meanwhile,” Clarke said, “I’m wondering what the actual hell is going on because I was supposed to meet the sender of the cards at the park that night. And if Lexa got my card, why didn’t she say something? I thought maybe she _did_ get it and was going to let me down easy, which meant whoever sent the cards wasn’t Lexa.” She finished up the little bit of extra lasagna.

“I screwed up.” She looked at her apologetic, and Clarke smiled and squeezed her hand. “I did manage to text her to let her know I had a meeting and I was looking forward to seeing her. But she figured I hadn’t gotten the card because I say stuff like that all the time to her.”

Abby chuckled. “So you came to the show after you finished up in DC, and both of you were basically wondering what’s going on.”

“Right?” Clarke sighed. “But we couldn’t talk about it there. Things got pretty busy, as you saw. And then after everybody cleaned up and left, I changed into street clothes and decided I was going to go to the pub and blow off the park.”

Abby raised her eyebrows. “Did you?”

“Hold on,” Lexa said. “Let me fill in this part. I left the gallery thinking I was going to meet Clarke, but when I told Anya right after I left about Clarke’s card, she wanted to know why the hell I hadn’t said anything to Clarke and it hit me. She was right, and sometimes my little weird hang-up isn’t the best way to deal with things. I went back to the gallery a few minutes after I left and knocked on the door but didn’t see Clarke. Then I called her, but she didn’t answer. At that point, I got my ass back to where I was staying, changed my clothes, and headed for the park.”

“I was in the bathroom when she came by,” Clarke said, laughing. “And I didn’t realize she had called. I just put my phone in my pocket and left, thinking I was going to go to the pub and drown my sorrows in something. But…I don’t know. Something made me head to the park instead.”

“This could be a really cute Christmas movie.” Abby dipped her bread into her olive oil.

“It did get a bit romcom-ish.” Clarke entwined her fingers with Lexa’s. “So I’m out there, in the cold, walking to the park, and I decided I was going to contact Niylah and find out who the hell made the cards. And that’s when I saw that Lexa had called earlier. She hadn’t left a message, and I got worried, and started walking away from the park, to go to Kristen’s Airbnb, where she was staying. But then I heard her. She had literally run all the way there, looking for me.”

“I asked where you were going, because it was almost eleven.”

She laughed. “That’s when it hit for sure, that you _had_ sent the cards.”

“And that’s when I told you that yes, I would have dinner with you. And whatever other meal you wanted.”

And the look in Lexa’s eyes. Oh, God. Her heart.

“This is probably one of the sweetest stories I’ve heard,” Abby said. “Thank you for sharing it.”

Clarke looked at her. “We went to the park, too.” She stroked Lexa’s hand with her thumb. “So we could finish out Lexa’s side of the Secret Santa saga.” And God, the memory of that night would be with her always.

“Well, it did need a romcom finish,” Lexa said, and Clarke somehow managed to keep herself from kissing her. Because right now, one was not going to be enough and she really did not want to make out in front of her mom.

Abby laughed. “I love it. And it’s about time.” She raised her eyebrows up and down.

“Jesus,” Clarke muttered, but she smiled.

“Sweetie, I started wondering your junior year why you two hadn’t gotten together. You have really good chemistry.”

She cleared her throat. “The timing wasn’t right. And I’m not sure how I feel that my own mother has been shipping us for years.”

Abby laughed. “Fine. How about some cobbler?” She pushed back from the table.

“Yes,” Clarke said, relieved. “I’ll make some coffee. Do you have ice cream? I forgot to ask when we left.”

“I do. Vanilla and chocolate.”

“Oh, I put the cobbler in the oven on low,” Lexa said. “So it’ll be good to go.”

“Excellent.” Abby picked up the pan of lasagna and both Clarke and Lexa got up to help, but Lexa’s phone rang.

“It’s Gustus. Okay if I take this?” She looked from Clarke to Abby back to Clarke.

“Of course. Tell him Merry Christmas from both of us,” Clarke said, and she pecked her on the cheek and Lexa’s eyes lit up, like she was the luckiest woman ever, like Clarke was the best thing she’d ever seen and fuck, there wasn’t room in her heart for all the feels bombarding it.

“Be right back,” Lexa said.

“Take your time,” Abby told her. “Everything’s under control.”

Lexa nodded as she answered and started talking as she walked to the living room.

Clarke helped Abby clear the table and got to work on getting dishes ready for the dishwasher while Abby worked on putting leftovers away.

“I really do love the Secret Santa story.”

Clarke half-laughed. “It _is_ a total romcom.”

“It’s magical.”

She looked at her. “A lot of people have been saying that.”

“Well, it’s true.” She got the last of the lasagna into one of two containers and put the lids on them. “When will you be able to see each other again?”

“Not sure. I think she mentioned she has some work to do in DC in the next couple of weeks, so maybe mid-January?”

“Fortunately, New York’s not that far.”

Clarke heard the underlying questions in her tone, probably about how they were going to make long distance work. “Well, in other news, she got a transfer she requested back to this area.”

Abby had been putting the leftover vegetables into a container, but she stopped and stared at her. “She’s moving back?”

“Yep. She’s been thinking about it for a while, and her request came through faster than she thought.” And now the feels were holding some kind of gymnastics meet in her heart. She was smiling so wide it hurt. “She’ll be in Polis.”

“When is this going to happen?”

“Beginning of March.”

“March? As in, this coming?”

“It was supposed to be August, but it got moved up.”

“As glad as I am to hear that, it’s not much time to do a major move. And she needs to find a place—”

“She’s got one.”

Abby’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Is that—is that a good idea?”

She laughed, because she knew exactly where Abby’s thoughts had gone. “No, not with me.” Though the thought had crossed her mind, more than once. “She rented a house, and it’s basically three blocks away from me.” She told her the story about how it had happened. When she finished, Abby shook her head, bemused.

“Your lives are truly a giant romcom.”

“Yeah. But I’m really okay with that.” She finished loading the dishwasher and took the lasagna pan and filled it with soapy water to soak a bit.

“I can tell.”

Clarke smiled and started to make coffee, then stopped. “We could wait on this and dessert until Marcus gets here.”

“No, go ahead and make it. He’s going to try to get away around four, but most likely it’ll be closer to five or six and by that time, I expect you to be on your way back to Polis. It’s Lexa’s last night with you for a while, after all.” She gave her a wicked smile.

“Okay, I’m now going to turn around and make this coffee because I cannot even cope with my mom going there.”

“What?” she said, tone innocent. “It _is_ her last night here for a while.”

“Oh, my God.” She poured beans into the grinder. “So is Marcus spending some time with Mallory and Erica, then?”

“Yes, and I’ll accept the change in subject. They’re in town at their mom’s this year.”

Clarke ground the beans before she responded. “It’s cool that he gets along with his ex-wife so well.”

“That’s one of the things I really like about him, is that he and Maria were able to end their marriage but remain supportive co-parents of their daughters and, honestly, stay supportive of each other. Not a lot of marriages end that way.”

She filled the pot with water and poured it into the reservoir of the coffee maker. “True.”

“And Clarke, I know you and Lexa are just starting out with these new circumstances, but the two of you have a great history together and there’s a solid foundation for a lot more.”

“I hope so,” she said.

“I think you can count on it.” She gave her a quick hug and Clarke was about to say something, but Lexa came in.

“Sorry about that. Also, Gustus and Indra send Christmas greetings.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” Abby started getting cups out of the cupboard. “Lexa, did you want coffee?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Yes, please. They also send New Year’s greetings.”

“Next time you talk to them, send ours along, too.” Abby set the cups on the counter next to Clarke. “Speaking of, anything going on for the New Year for either of you?”

“I think Octavia and Lincoln are having something at the pub. I’ll probably go to that.” She looked over at Lexa, wishing she was already based in Polis.

“No real plans,” Lexa said. “New York is hard to deal with at New Year’s, so I usually stay home or go to an early dinner with friends or work colleagues.”

“And then you work,” Clarke said with a long-suffering tone, and she took her hand and pulled her closer, surprisingly at ease with this display of PDA in front of her mom.

“I can get a lot done, all safe in my apartment while the city goes nuts.” Lexa smiled and squeezed her hand.

“Well, next year will no doubt be different,” Abby said. “Clarke told me that you’re moving back to Polis.”

Clarke leaned into Lexa, Abby’s hint that they’d be spending New Year’s together a year from now making her smile. And Jesus, Lexa smelled good. She absolutely loved how she smelled. Crisp with layers of sandalwood and maybe amber, with hints of outdoors.

“I am,” Lexa was saying. “It’s been on my list of things to do for a while. Did she tell you how I managed to rent a house?”

“Yes,” Abby said as she got creamer out of the fridge and a pint of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. “Another great story for the romcom.” She set both items down near the cups then went to the oven and took the cobbler out and set it on the stove. “Oh, this smells so good.”

Clarke let go of Lexa’s hand and went to the stove to inspect their handiwork. “That _does_ smell good. Credit to Lexa, who did most of the prep work.”

“She let you sleep in?” Abby said with another wicked smile.

Lexa looked like she was trying really hard not to laugh and Clarke cleared her throat.

“I think the coffee’s ready,” she said, which made Abby laugh and Lexa smile. Clarke rolled her eyes and went to pour coffee into the cups while Lexa got bowls out of one of the cabinets.

A few minutes later they each had a bowl of cobbler with ice cream on top.

“Den,” Abby said. “This is definitely the kind of thing to eat in comfortable chairs and on couches.

And that’s exactly what they did, Clarke and Lexa on the couch, Abby in an armchair set at a right angle to it, eating and talking about work, Clarke’s upcoming semester at Arkadia University as a visiting fellow, A few of Lexa’s cases, and a spring medical conference where Abby would be presenting.

Clarke went to get the coffee pot to refill everybody’s cups, and she heard Abby laughing while she was in the kitchen, and she thought about the first time Abby had met Lexa, spring semester of their sophomore year. Abby had come to Polis to take Clarke to lunch, something she did a couple times a month, and Lexa showed up at Clarke and Raven’s to drop off a book she’d borrowed from Raven, who wasn’t there.

So she introduced Lexa to Abby, and Abby invited her to go to lunch with them. Lexa had declined—she had to go to her part-time job—and Abby told her next time, then. Lexa had said she’d like that, and it was good to meet her. Lexa had made an impression on her, because Abby had asked about her over lunch, and said that she liked her energy.

She smiled as she carried the coffee and creamer into the den. Abby could be kind of woo-woo.

But the next time she was in town that semester, she insisted that Clarke invite Lexa to lunch, along with Raven, if she was around, because Raven was practically a sister. Abby had readily accepted Lexa as part of Clarke’s circle, but unlike Raven, who was basically another daughter to her, Lexa held a different place, and thinking about it now, she wondered if it was because Abby somehow sensed possibility for her with Lexa, something that was never part of Clarke’s relationship with Raven.

She refilled all their cups then set the now empty pot on a coaster on the coffee table and sat down and Lexa, who was telling Abby about another one of her cases, took Clarke’s free hand without missing a beat as she talked. Clarke looked over at Abby, who was focused on Lexa, and she loved how easy it turned out to be, to hang out with her mom, with these new parameters.

After the coffee was truly gone, Lexa collected all the empty bowls while Clarke got the cups and the coffee pot and they both went into the kitchen.

Abby was right behind them. “Marcus texted. He’ll be here in about forty-five minutes.”

“We can hang around for a while,” Clarke said as she rinsed out the pot.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. You two should get back to Polis, since Lexa has to travel tomorrow. But next time you’re in town,” she said to Lexa, “maybe we can all get together for dinner or something like that.”

“Sounds great,” Lexa said. She looked at Clarke. “So, you ready to go? I’m good with whatever you want to do.”

“Sure. Let me finish this up.” She put the cups in the dishwasher and Lexa rinsed out the bowls and handed them to her while Abby got small containers of leftovers from dinner out of the fridge and put them in the insulated tote. Clarke smiled, because it was a long-established habit between them, that they sent each other home with leftovers.

“Please take some of this cobbler home,” Abby said.

“Okay. But we’re leaving some for you and Marcus. He’s a dessert guy, after all.”

Abby laughed. “He is that.”

Lexa laughed, too. “Back in a minute,” she said, and she left, presumably to go to the bathroom.

“This was fun,” Abby said.

“It was. Thanks, Mom.”

Abby zipped up the tote. “To reiterate, I really like you two as a couple. In case you were worried about what I thought.” She winked.

“It…was actually weirdly nerve-wracking. Like I was bringing Lexa home to meet you for the first time.” She put the dish towel on the hook over the sink, and it occurred to her that Abby had referred to them as a couple.

“Well, this is a new perspective for me, but I’ve always liked Lexa and like I said, I’ve always thought you two had great chemistry as more than friends.” She paused. “I hope it works out for you both.”

“Me, too.” She wasn’t even sure what the meant, but she knew she wanted Lexa in her life like this and she didn’t see an endpoint for it.

“Remember, you have a great start already.” She smiled and picked up the tote and Clarke followed her to the door, where Lexa had already put her shoes on. She had also brought their coats from the office and put them on the chair by the door. Clarke got her own shoes on then her coat and Lexa took the tote from Abby, who gave Clarke a hug.

“Text me when you get home.”

“Yep.”

Abby hugged Lexa next and said something to her that Clarke didn’t catch, and Lexa nodded and smiled.

“Merry Christmas to Marcus,” Clarke said as Abby opened the door.

“And happy New Year,” Lexa added, “since I won’t see him.”

“I’ll tell him. See you later.”

“Bye, Mom. Talk to you in a bit.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Abby waited until they had walked down the steps before she waved and shut the door and Clarke took Lexa’s free hand as they walked the short distance to her car. The last of the evening light was quickly fading and Clarke knew it would be fully dark before they got out of the city.

“That was fun,” Lexa said when Clarke unlocked the car and took the tote so she could put it on the floor behind the passenger seat.

“Yeah.” She closed the back door. “I had a good time.”

“Thanks for the Christmas invite.” Lexa moved closer and caressed her face and Clarke melted into her touch. “So you think you might want to take me home with you?” The expression in her eyes made heat gather between Clarke’s thighs.

“I might.” She grinned and kissed her and how the hell had she been without this all these years? “Get in the car, Woods,” she said against her lips after a few more kisses.

Lexa’s smirk was practically molten and Clarke forced herself to step away and go to the driver’s side.

They buckled up and Clarke started the engine. “I kind of want to take a photo of this parking space, as proof that I actually got it.”

“Inspiration for next time?”

“Totally. I’ll print it out, write ‘remember when?’ on it, and tape it to my dashboard.”

“We could make a good luck shrine in the back of your car.”

Clarke laughed as she pulled out of the space. “There are many things you and I could do right now, and that one is really low on my list.”

“So what’s at the top of your list?”

“Spending more time with you in a far more intimate setting.” She turned onto another street.

“Huh. That’s at the top of _my_ list, too.”

Clarke glanced at her. “I like when our priorities line up.”

“They seem to be doing that a lot.”

She smiled and steered onto the entrance ramp to a parkway. Once she had settled into a lane, she took Lexa’s hand and they sat in companionable silence for a while until Lexa broke it.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just—a little out of sorts, maybe.”

Lexa didn’t say anything, but she raised their linked hands and kissed the back of Clarke’s.

“Not necessarily in a bad way. Just—my mom is being really supportive of this shift in our relationship and I’m not really used to that. She normally just stays out of that part of my life. Which is weird, because we’ve had so many issues after my dad died and she was trying to be in pretty much _all_ my business except my relationship stuff. Caused a lot of stress.” She glanced at her. “As you know.” Lexa had been a sounding board for her as she struggled to deal with figuring out how to negotiate the terrain with Abby without Jake as a buffer.

“The last few years have been pretty good between you, though.”

“Yeah. And she has asked me a few times if I’m seeing anyone. Not in her usual intrusive way. Just in a way to kind of talk to me. Like she’s trying to figure out who I am, too, the way I’m trying to figure out who she is.” She adjusted her speed. Getting a ticket on Christmas Day would suck. “Things were…okay my first three years of college. But when I made art a priority, they got worse.”

“I know.”

She half-laughed. “Yep. You do.” She squeezed her hand, remembering the times she and Abby had particularly bad arguments and Lexa would listen, give her some tough love advice if warranted, but always tempered it with a hug.

“I’m not the easiest person to deal with, either,” Clarke said after a few moments.

“Nobody is. But yes, you can be quite frustrating.”

She laughed. “You’ve pointed that out to me over the years, and how it might interfere with communicating. It pissed me off a few times, but…fuck, you were right. As hard as it was to admit.”

Lexa smiled. “Well, you’ve been right about a few issues in _my_ life over the years. And yeah, it pissed _me_ , off, too. But I have a lot of respect for you, and I know you wouldn’t tell me things like that if you didn’t care.”

“That’s how I felt about you, after I stopped being pissed at you for pointing things out.”

“Pointing out _correct_ things,” she said, in a long-suffering tone.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll let you have that one.”

Lexa chuckled. “I’ve told you this before, but you and your mom clash because you’re both really strong women and stubborn as hell.”

“Why, yes. You have. My dad said the same thing.”

“He was a wise man. It also occurred to me that maybe on some level, your mom recognizes how similar you two are and she’s trying to keep you from making the same mistakes she did, but she doesn’t know how to do that with you. She doesn’t know how to be vulnerable, because she’s had to be strong for both of you since your dad died. As hard as it’s been for both of you, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for you.”

Clarke didn’t respond, but Lexa’s words stirred up a little anxiety, a reaction she had when something was probably true and she didn’t want to deal with it.

“Maybe that’s part of why she was so against you going into art, because she wanted you to have something like medicine as your career, which can guarantee you a job virtually anywhere. She wanted you to be okay and safe, and have resources if something happened to her, too. Not to excuse any of the shitty things she said to you or how bad you felt when she was fighting you on what you knew was your calling. Because that was not okay.”

“Could be that was part of it. Maybe I’ll ask her some day.”

Lexa kissed her hand again and though a simple gesture, it calmed her.

“Anyway, she’s really glad about these ‘new circumstances’—her words—between us. She said we have a great history together and there’s a good foundation for more. And I guess that kind of caught me off guard, that she’d say something like that to me. It’s something my dad would have said, so hearing it from my mom—I don’t know. Kind of threw me a little.”

“Well, she’s right. We do have a great history. Even when you’ve been pissed at me.”

Clarke smiled. “Never for very long. What about the other part?”

“Which?”

“The good foundation for more?”

“Yes. I think we have that, too.”

She didn’t respond, and instead kissed Lexa’s hand.

“You’ve mentioned your dad a couple times,” Lexa said after a while. “Want to talk about him?”

“I was thinking tonight that I wish he could have met you.” She swallowed, as if that would somehow help with the lump in her throat.

“I do, too.”

“When I was a kid, I used to draw comics. I mean, obviously, they weren’t very good then, but my dad would look at them—really look at them. And he would always encourage me. I think I told him when I was five or six or something that I wanted to be an artist and he said I should do whatever I wanted that made me happy.” She clenched her teeth because she felt like she might cry.

Lexa disengaged her hand from hers and rested it on her thigh instead, touch comforting.

“I asked him when I was about nine if I had to be a doctor and he said no, if that’s not what I wanted to do. But then when he died, I thought maybe I _should_ be a doctor, as a life skill to keep. Like what you said my mom might have been thinking. Guaranteed job. But God, I wasn’t happy doing anything related to it. I didn’t mind the classes I took related to medicine, but I was so much happier and more engaged with art. It made me feel things deep--in ways that medicine didn’t. And in other ways, it made me feel close to my dad.” Her vision blurred a little from tears and she wiped them away.

Lexa moved her hand and started gently stroking the back of Clarke’s neck.

“My mom told me at my show that she realized how important it was, and that it was a way for her to get to know me. She also apologized for trying to force me into a box. And she said my dad would have been proud of me. That was…I don’t know. Kind of a milestone for us, I guess.” She was quiet for a bit. “I had other things on my mind that night, and I haven’t really unpacked what she said. But being around her today, and watching her with you—it reminded me how she’s been trying to work on things.”

“So have you,” Lexa said.

Clarke smiled. “You’d know. You’ve seen it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just damn lucky to be a part of your life.”

“And here I thought I was the lucky one, to have you in mine.”

She took Clarke’s hand again. “Do you remember a couple of months after we met, you asked about my parents?”

“Yeah. We were hanging out on Octavia’s roof drinking bad beer and watching the stars. You told me you didn’t know your biological dad and that your biological mom died before you were three and her brother Gustus and his wife Indra took you in and then adopted you.”

“Yes. And they told me about my mom and that they didn’t know who my biodad was, but if I ever wanted to try to find him, they’d support me in that.” She paused. “I’ve never been interested in finding him.”

“I asked you if you remembered your mom,” Clarke said softly, as she steered onto the exit ramp she needed to take them through Polis.

“I told you that I kind of did, but it was hazy. I had pictures of her—still do—but I stopped making the connection that she was my mom because she died when I was so young. Instead, she’s someone from my past, and she’ll forever be a young woman who I never really knew. Which is sad, because Gustus and Indra have told me about her and I’m pretty sure that she would have been a decent parent. They said she was really good with me when she was alive. Which tells me that whatever brief start she gave me was a good one, and when Gustus and Indra brought me into their family, they built on what she began. Doesn’t mean it didn’t affect me, what happened. I still have this thing about trying to protect myself, and keeping stuff to myself. Deep down, maybe because my mom died at a point in my life when I could remember it, it’s been a little hard feeling safe sharing stuff with people, or opening up. Stuff like that—it affects kids deeply.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “It does.”

“Do you remember what I said that night about telling you about my mom and being adopted?”

“Yes. That I was the first person you’d told about your history since high school.” And she remembered Lexa’s expression when she said it, a little vulnerable and cautious, but conviction nonetheless, like she had come to an important decision.

“Because it felt safe to do it, on every possible level.”

Clarke bit her lip and she glanced over at her, beautiful even in the dim lights from the dashboard.

“My whole rambling point to this exercise—” she stopped and cleared her throat and Clarke knew she was fighting tears, “is that you make me feel safe. You always have. And that’s kind of a big deal in my world. So that’s why I think I’m really lucky that you’re in my life and why I think your mom’s right, about the foundation between us.”

Clarke pulled her hand free and wiped at her eyes again. “Jesus, Lexa. Right in the feels.”

She laughed. “Same. What the hell with all of this emotion shit?”

Clarke laughed, too. “Like we’ve never displayed it before with each other.” She turned down her street.

“Seems we’ve been displaying a whole hell of a lot lately.”

Clarke pulled into her driveway and stopped the car. “Yeah, well, it’s easy to do that with you because you make me feel safe, too.”

And the expression in Lexa’s eyes filled every part of her heart. She gave her a quick kiss before they both got out of the car.

Lexa retrieved the tote container with the leftovers and Clarke locked up before they went inside where Clarke disabled the alarm then took off her shoes and coat. Lexa did the same then took the tote and went into the kitchen.

Clarke made sure the front door was locked before she followed her. “Did you want some tea or anything?” she asked as she checked the back door, too.

“No, but thanks.” She finished putting the leftovers away then closed the fridge and hugged her, a warm, gentle expression of affection, and Clarke held on and closed her eyes, loving her physical presence and the care she took in this moment. She hadn’t realized how much she had needed this kind of contact with her after their heavy conversation.

She didn’t know how long they stood like that, but she didn’t care and neither of them needed to say anything. Clarke loved that, too, that they often communicated without words, that a look or a touch was all they needed to convey exactly what they were thinking.

Lexa sighed, a cute, content sound. “These last few days have been off the charts amazing.”

“Mmm hmm.” She pulled away a bit so she could lose herself in her eyes. “There really aren’t words for how I feel right now.”

She pressed her forehead to Clarke’s. “I know that feeling.”

“Can we just—” she sighed and cupped Lexa’s cheek. “Cuddle for a while?”

She smiled. “God, yes. Which I think does call for tea, so I change my earlier response.”

“Good plan.” Clarke kissed her and reluctantly pulled away. “So how about this? Go put some sweats on and meet me on the couch.”

“Done.” She left the kitchen, and Clarke of course stared after her then filled the kettle with water and turned it on then got mugs out of the cabinet and a few boxes of herbal tea, a variety of flavors. That done, she went upstairs and took her own advice and put on sweats and slippers. Lexa had been in the bathroom and she followed Clarke back to the kitchen, where Clarke put a peppermint tea bag in her mug then stirred in some honey. Lexa chose strawberry chocolate tea.

“Shit. Forgot to text my mom.” And she’d left her phone upstairs. “Be right back.”

“Meet you on the couch.” She picked up the two mugs and Clarke went back upstairs and texted Abby.

_Got back okay. Forgot to text you sooner._

And clearly, Abby had been waiting to hear from her, because she started to respond.

_Okay. Had a great time. So good to see you both. [smile emoji]_

_We had a great time, too. Hi to Marcus._

She put her phone on vibrate and it did just that halfway down the steps with a response.

_Hi back._

Clarke waited on the steps, because Abby was working up another reply.

 _You and Lexa are good for each other, and I hope you both see that_. _Now go spend more time with her! TTYL [heart emoji] you_

She smiled. _[heart emoji] you too._ She went down to the living room and put her phone on the coffee table next to her mug. Lexa had sat down at the end of the couch, where the armrest met the back. She held the blanket up so Clarke could join her under it and Clarke did and snuggled against her, appreciating that Lexa had only turned on one lamp, and that she had left the TV off.

“My mom says she had a great time and it was good to see us both.”

“It _was_ a great time.”

“And she says we’re good for each other.”

“I one hundred thousand percent agree.”

Clarke chuckled.

“Also, not to make assumptions, but I think your mom might like me.”

“Oh?” Clarke traced patterns on her thigh.

“Yeah.” She pulled her even closer.

“How do you know?”

She shrugged. “I got a good vibe.”

“Huh. Well, I _have_ been talking you up.” She kissed her jaw.

“I appreciate that,” she said softy, and she turned her head, mouth barely grazing Clarke’s.

“I thought you would.” She teased Lexa’s lips with her own, dusting them with feather-light contact, and all her senses were tuned to Lexa, to the hitch in her breathing, the lingering smell of sandalwood, the way she moved against her, and how the world condensed to just the two of them holding on to each other, sharing kisses and smiles.

And when Clarke slowly pulled away, she knew she didn’t need to say anything, because she saw her thoughts mirrored in Lexa’s eyes.

And she knew it was going to be a long night.

In all the right ways.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI, everybody! MOAR CLEXMAS FEELZ.
> 
> I'm kind of a sucker for morning after scenes, those of you who read my stuff. Especially if I'm writing two characters who are into each other like this. [heart eyes emoji]
> 
> Also, I like writing Clarke and Abby in AU because they can have a slightly different relationship. It hasn't always been easy for them, but they're working on it. :)
> 
> Also, make a cobbler! [HERE IS A RECIPE FOR APPLE! YUM!](https://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/easy-apple-cobbler)
> 
> Thanks, all for reading. We're still going on this damn thing, so see ya in a bit! (also, you can find me on [Tumblr](http://www.andimarquette.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/andimarquette) if you want)


	14. Along the Red Rose Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa sends a message to Clarke in a new kind of way. Clarke gets it, and makes some secret New Year's plans.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt whatever thought you’re having, but do you have a minute?”

Lexa looked up from her screen at Kelly, who stood in her office’s open doorway. “Sorry?” Her neck heated beneath her collar, because the thoughts uppermost in her mind were of Clarke, in various states of undress.

She laughed. “I know. Coming back from some time off is always a hard adjustment to make.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. Kelly was only a couple of years older, but she had a matronly, supportive air about her. She cleared her throat. “What’s up?”

“I have some time now, and Jarissa can call in so we can talk about your relocation. I’ve got a couple of other meetings this afternoon that came up—” she rolled her eyes, “and I may not be able to talk until after four otherwise.”

“I can talk now. I’ve got another call in about an hour, though.”

“This won’t take that long. And we’ll have a couple of follow-ups. Meet you in the small conference room in five.” She left and Lexa stood and grabbed a notepad and a pen, since this didn’t sound like it would require taking notes with her laptop. Her personal phone chirped with text messages and she checked it and totally forgot what the hell she was doing because they were from Clarke.

_I know I just saw you yesterday_

_but God, I miss you_

_and I just wanted you to know_

_that I can’t stop thinking about you [heart emoji]_

Lexa read them several times and fuck, she was useless right now for anything but Clarke. Nobody else had ever affected her like this, or moved her so deeply. And yeah, it was barely a few days since they had acknowledged their feelings for each other, but it felt longer, in so many good ways.

_I'm thinking the same things about you,_ she texted back. _And I’m missing you bad._

She started to leave then fired off another text. _Mtg right now @ the move [smile emoji]. More later. [kiss emoji]_

And shit, she was going to be late. She left her phones in her office and went to the small conference room where Kelly sat with her tablet and a cup of coffee.

“Just us?” Lexa asked as she took a seat across from her at the board table.

“Matt’s in Buffalo. He’s already signed off on everything and said if we need his input, just let him know.” She handed Lexa one of the portable microphones from the speaker phone then dialed a number. Lexa set it nearby and she was glad she didn’t bring her phone because she would have been reading Clarke’s texts again and then she’d end up completely off the rails for this meeting and Kelly would wonder wtf was wrong with her—the phone was ringing and someone picked up.

“Hi. It’s Jarissa.”

She jerked her attention to Kelly.

“Hi, there. I’ve got Lexa in here with me, so we can go over a few details about starting dates and all of that.”

“Great. Hi, Lexa.”

“Hey. How’s Chicago?”

“It’s…Chicago. Looking forward to coming back to New York.”

Kelly smiled. “Good. Okay, here’s where things are. I told Lexa that she could be starting in the DC office around the first week of March and she’s going to do it.”

“Damn, girl,” Jarissa said, and Lexa grinned.

“I know. But hey, opportunity, right?”

“You do you,” she said, laughing.

Kelly typed something into her tablet. “Jarissa, are you still good with a starting date here around the end of March?”

“Yes. Gives me a month more than you, Lexa,” she said, teasing.

“I’m not as far away from where I’m going. You’ve got three times the distance to cover.”

“There’s that. And I’ll take the extra month.”

“Okay,” Kelly said. “We can talk later, Jarissa, about a definite start date. Lexa, you and I can do a phone call with the DC office some time this week to make sure everything’s good. They’ve got office space, so that’s not the issue, but I need to put in the orders to IT for your computer and phone and all of that.”

“I’m in New York for the next couple of weeks, so just let me know when you want to make the call.” Lexa made a note to herself on the notepad.

“Great.” Kelly typed something else into her tablet. “And Jarissa, how are you on finding a place to live?”

“I’ll be in town next week and I’ve got some appointments to see some places.”

“Where are you looking?” Lexa asked.

“Lower Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens, mostly.”

“Come by and see my place. I’m just off SoHo. Two bedrooms, one bath. And I’ll be out of there probably the last week of February, which gives management time to repaint and check things over.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea. I’ll text you later to set something up.”

“Great.” And they could probably have a beer. She liked Jarissa.

“Excellent,” Kelly said. “Glad that’s a possibility. Lexa, how are you on a place to live? Your schedule is crunched.”

“It’s all good. I have a place.”

Kelly’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Damn girl,” Jarissa said again. “Y’all are on the _move_.”

If she only knew. “I get shit done.”

Kelly laughed. “And on that note, are we all good for now?”

“Yes,” Jarissa said. “I’ll call you, Lexa.”

“Great. Talk to you soon. Bye.”

“Bye,” Kelly said and disconnected the call and gave Lexa a look. “You already found a place? I was thinking you’d probably have to Airbnb for a bit.”

“I thought about that, but the day you called me to tell me the relocation came through, I let a friend of mine know I was looking for a place and that afternoon got a hit, on a house about four blocks from where I was staying.”

“It’s in Polis?” Her eyes widened again.

“Yeah. Turns out I know the realtor who’s renting it. She ran with some of my college crowd.”

Kelly shook her head in disbelief. “All right, I’m just…wow. It’s great how things just seem to have come together, here. And if your place works out for Jarissa, well, that’ll be a big help to her.”

“Hopefully, it will.” She’d give the manager a heads-up this week. He’d be glad that she already had somebody to take the space and all he’d have to do is get it ready.

“I meant to ask you how your Christmas was.”

“Great. Really great.” Understatement of the century, possibly the millennium. “How was yours?”

“Not as relaxing as I would have liked, but that’s what happens when you have kids and the grandparents come to visit.” She shrugged and smiled, kind of a “what can you do?” expression in her eyes. “Did you take some time off?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you not work for at least a couple of days? It’s important that you give yourself some time away from this to stay healthy and not get burned out.”

“Oh, yeah. I did actually do that.” And oh, God, thoughts of what she and Clarke had done during those two days—more than just those two days, actually. They’d managed to spend a lot of time together. And she wanted so much more.

“Good. Make sure you do that, especially with this move, because it’s going to be stressful.”

Somehow, she wasn’t thinking about it in those terms, but Kelly was right. Moving sucked, even in circumstances like these. “Will do.”

“Okay. I’ll follow up in a bit.”

Lexa nodded and stood. “Thanks. For this and for everything.”

She smiled. “You’re a talented attorney. I like knowing you’ll be in DC.” She left it at that, but Lexa heard the unspoken “especially with all the freaky shit emanating from the government right now” in her voice. “And now I have to go deal with a few other things.”

“Same here. Talk to you later.” She went back to her office and closed the door, already making a list in her head about what she needed to do in the next week, because she was planning to start packing and organizing as soon as possible. She texted Clarke a quick update and that she’d talk to her later, then sighed, happy, and forced herself to get back to work. The more she got done, the more time she’d have to deal with getting packed and organized.

A couple of hours later, a knock on her door interrupted, but she wasn’t irritated about it. She needed a break. “Yeah. It’s open.”

“Hi.” Siobhan, one of the attorneys whose office was on the other side of the hall, leaned in. “I thought you were back. Want to join a few of us for drinks after work Friday?”

“That’s New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s why we’re going right after work, before it gets too crazy. Golden Lotus.”

“They make a great martini,” Lexa said, but it couldn’t compete with Octavia’s Clarke-tastic.

“Exactly. We can go, grab a corner table, and enjoy one before all the corporate bros get there.”

She thought about Clarke, teasing her about her workaholic ways. “Sure.” Afterward, she could get some more packing done while the city prepared to lose its shit.

“Great. How was your Christmas?”

“It was excellent.” _So_ excellent.

“You were in DC, right?”

“Mostly Polis. I went to college there.”

“Oh, right. And you’ll soon be leaving us to return to that area. I’ll miss you.” She made an exaggerated sad face and her glasses—strangely stylish pink horn rims—moved with the gesture.

Lexa laughed. “Yeah, okay. Like you never go to the DC office.”

“Not as often as you do.”

“Come down for a few days whenever and work out of that office. They’ve got room.”

“Fine. I will. I like DC.”

“Like I said, they have space, if you’re looking to relocate.”

“I don’t like it _that_ much. New York will always be home.”

“Snob.”

“And?” she said with a grin.

“Nothing. Pointing out the obvious.”

“Anyway, glad you’ll be joining us Friday. Also, I need to follow up with you on the Fernandez case.”

“I was just finishing up the brief on that and I’ll send it over.”

“See? I’m totally going to miss you because you’re always on time or early with stuff I need. Are you around this week?”

“I’m in town pretty much until the twentieth and then I’ll be in DC for a few days.” And Polis. She planned to stretch that work trip an extra day or two.

“Can we meet maybe Wednesday? Sam and Jess want to make sure we’ve got everything covered before we file.”

“My morning’s clear that day. Send me an invite.”

She gave her a double thumbs-up. “Thanks.”

“Yep.”

“Want your door closed?”

“Yes, please. Trying not to be distracted.” At least not with office stuff.

She nodded and closed the door behind her and Lexa focused immediately on the brief. Twenty minutes later, she emailed it to Siobhan then made a few phone calls to check in with other attorneys on cases she was dealing with, including one with an LGBT organization that was serving as co-counsel on one of them.

And then she had a conference call, so she dialed in, put her phone on speaker, and leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. Which needed a new coat of paint. She looked around. The walls might need one, too. Standard office off-white needed to be freshened up every couple of years.

She had brightened it in here with a few framed 1930s-style travel posters, which also helped lighten the dark gray industrial office carpeting. The offices here were basically functional urban-ish with carpet and furnishings that looked professional and could take a beating. The DC office had more light, and the front wall of individual offices was glass, which might be kind of cool.

And it occurred to her she needed to move a bunch of her files and books from this office to DC. That was going to be kind of a pain in the ass. Maybe she’d come in on a weekend with her car to get that taken care of.

Her personal phone chirped with a text message.

_I’m really going to love seeing the tower in your place._

God, even a text from her made her heartbeat speed up. _Are you looking at it right now?_

_Yes. I feel like there’s a story there & you’re in it. [wink emoji]_

She imagined Clarke in her gallery, studying the tower painting, maybe her hair pulled back—she re-focused on the conference call for a bit. Nothing she hadn’t already been updated on. _You’re in it, too_ , she texted back then typed, _I think you always have been_. That could mean so many things…she sent it then focused again on the conference call. At least this one was moving along efficiently. Someone asked her to update them on a couple of things and she did, managing not to get distracted by Clarke’s response.

The call’s moderator thanked her, then thanked everyone, and ended the call. She hung up and checked her cell.

_I’m enjoying creating more of it with you._

Okay, _that_ was feels-inducing. She texted a heart emoji back then did a web search on a particular flower shop in Polis, and tapped the phone number into her keypad.

“Floral Designs. Luce speaking,” said a pleasant female voice with a touch of an English accent that Lexa couldn’t place in terms of regions of that country.

“Hi. I’d like to order some flowers to be delivered tomorrow.”

“Excellent. Where would you like those to go?”

“Griffin Gallery.”

“To Clarke?”

“Yes.” Clearly, she wasn’t going to be able to keep this on the down-low. Everybody in that part of Polis knew everybody else.

“Great. What sort of arrangement would you like?”

“Roses.”

“Did you have a particular color and number in mind?”

Lexa hesitated.

“Let me help. The color of a rose can convey certain things, and so can the number. Red is, of course, the traditional way to say you love someone, if that’s what you’re going for, and they’re associated with romance and desire. Red roses say ‘I love you’ like nothing else. Unless you screw up, in which case, fifteen of them is a traditional way to say you’re sorry.”

“Did not know that. And this is definitely not that situation.”

She laughed. “That’s a relief. It’s always awkward doing one of those.”

“So…not quite full-on red roses, but along the red rose line is what I’m looking for.” She paused. “And that sounds like a transit situation.”

Luce laughed again. “Maybe in Portland, which is the Rose City, after all.”

“You are just a font of flower info. Is that a thing? Flowerology? Florology?”

“Floriology. And yes.”

“Wow. Mind blown today.”

“It is pretty interesting, when you delve into the language of flowers and historically, how they were used to pass messages coded through color, style, and type of flower. Which brings us back to your situation. You’re not wanting full red but…” She left a question hanging at the end.

“Something along those lines.” And she had pretty much just informed her that she was into Clarke and was on her way to red rose status with her—hold up.

Was she?

She gripped her phone a little tighter and her mouth went dry. Was it too soon? Should she even be thinking about it? A gentle wave of calm rolled through her. Yes, she should. And she had been, because they’d been on this path together probably since they had met. Something about that settled and grounded her.

“Lavender roses are also popular," Luce said. "They signify love at first sight.”

“Not quite.” Though there was definitely an interest at first sight where Clarke was concerned.

“So maybe orange roses. And they’re not a blazing kind of scary orange, but a soft coral orange. They tell the recipient that you want them in your life and that you’re passionate about them. The color means desire and enthusiasm. Also fascination—you want to know more. The richer the orange, the more passionate the giver feels.”

“I like that. Is there another color with a meaning related to that, maybe a little stronger but also not quite red status?”

Pause. “Yes. And not to be presumptuous, but you might be interested in sunset roses. Those are yellow with red tops, and they mean—again, not to be presumptuous—that the giver is falling for the recipient. Yellow is the color of friendship, but when you have that red along the tops, that signifies love, that a feeling is shifting from friendship to something stronger.”

The words registered, but they didn’t freak her out. Instead, they felt warm and calm and kind of exciting. “Hold on a sec.” She turned to her laptop and called up images of both sunset and orange roses. “Oh, these are pretty. Both the orange and the sunset. Do you think those two work together in a bouquet? It’s not too much…I don’t know. Yellow-orange?”

She laughed. “If you’re just talking aesthetics, now, yes. All rose colors pretty much work together. The question here is what message you’re trying to send.”

Lexa chewed her lip for a moment. “The ones you said.”

“Great,” she said, and Lexa was relieved that she sounded professional and wasn’t going to get all cutesy about it. “So let’s talk numbers.”

“Those have messages, too?”

“Oh, yes. Where roses are concerned, especially. Let me give you a few examples. One rose—and that’s not what you’re going for, here, and it’s something I think works better in a one-on-one situation—means you’re infatuated and it’s a love at first sight kind of thing. Two symbolizes mutual love and affection, and that’s a nice thing to do in relationships that aren’t brand new but might still be new. It’s also nice to do in established relationships.”

“Seriously, I’m learning a lot, here. Go on.” She was actually writing this down.

“Three roses represent a relationship and the shared love within it. That’s a traditional one-month anniversary thing.”

Lexa almost made a comment about F/F relationships and one-month anniversaries, but she fought a laugh and didn’t.

“Then we skip four and five and go to six, generally. A half-dozen roses signifies infatuation, which may or may not be a good thing, given the circumstances. Then we skip to nine, and that’s kind of an intense message. That means you’ll be together forever.”

“That _is_ kind of intense, but also sort of romantic in maybe a Shakespearean way.”

“Exactly. Ten lets the recipient know that their love is perfection. We skip eleven, but twelve—that’s a traditional kind of thing, an obvious ‘be mine’ bouquet. Two dozen yells ‘I’m yours’. To be frank, I’m not a fan of more than a dozen roses when you’re trying to convey a message to a special someone because it always feels like overkill and maybe a bit of desperation. Decades ago, when cultural contexts were different, and when it was primarily men buying flowers for women, I might have been more inclined to support more than a dozen roses. But that’s not the case now, and I’m actually glad.”

“Less is more.”

“Exactly. Except fifteen roses. I’m still a fan of that as an apology.”

“That’s also a good thing to remember, because I’m sure I’ll have to do that in the future,” Lexa said with a laugh.

Luce chuckled. “Well, I hope that doesn’t have to happen, but if so, you know where to find me. At any rate, did you want me to finish out the high number meanings?”

“No, I think a traditional dozen is how I want to go.”

“Great. Would you like six orange and six sunset?”

“Yes, please. And…I mean, if you could add whatever extra decorative touches you think would work, that would be great.” She cleared her throat, a little nervous about this. She’d never given Clarke flowers before, and it felt important.

“I can do that. Would you like me to text you a photo when the arrangement is done?”

“Oh, yes. Definitely. Thank you.”

“All right. Let me get some information from you and I’ll set this up. Did you have a particular time in mind for delivery?”

“Late morning or early afternoon. When she’s there.”

“And did you have a particular message you’d like included?”

Oh, shit. “Um. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“Tell you what. Text it to me when you think of it. Let me give you my cell number.”

“Uh, okay. Go.”

Luce provided it.

“All right. I’ll text you right after this so you have my number, too. I’m Lexa, by the way.”

“Oh, of course. Clarke has mentioned you.”

She might have blushed a little. “I went to college in Polis. That’s where we met.”

“Then you must know Octavia and Lincoln.”

“Yep. We’ve all been friends since college."

“You were at her gallery opening before Christmas. Octavia pointed you out. That was a fabulous dress.”

"Thank you. I'm not sure I saw you, though, so I’ll definitely stop by and be sure to meet you in person the next time I’m in Polis.”

“Where are you now?”

“New York. But I have to be in DC quite a bit for work and I’m actually moving back to Polis toward the end of February.”

“That’s excellent news, I presume.”

Lexa laughed. “Yeah. It is. And with any luck, I now have you as my flower connection.”

“Definitely.”

“Anyway, thank you so much for your help.”

“Certainly. So let me get your other information and we’ll go from there.”

Lexa provided it, and when she hung up, she sat back in her chair and stared at the images of the roses still on her laptop. Was it cheesy to send roses to Clarke? Old-fashioned? Maybe she should have sent them to her house. But no, because Clarke generally was at the gallery on weekdays.

Why did this make her so nervous?

Maybe because as friends, it wasn’t something she did. Flowers like this—roses, especially—felt special. Kind of serious. Again, she wondered if it was too soon but memories of the past few days flooded her thoughts. She’d always had feelings for Clarke beyond friendship, but over the years she’d gotten really good at compartmentalizing them and there they sat, silently growing over the years until she finally made the decision to admit she had them, and by that time, they were much bigger than she remembered.

So much bigger.

She smiled. She was in deep and fuck it, she _was_ serious about Clarke, and if Clarke needed some time to figure things out, she’d wait. However long it took, she’d wait. Maybe the flowers were a way of saying that, too.

She got up to get a cup of tea, mulling what she wanted to say in the personal message. Fortunately, she still had some time to figure it out.

###

Clarke walked into the gallery and handed the smoothie she carried to Willow, the student who worked part-time for her, and set the to-go cup of coffee she carried in her other hand on the counter.

“Thank you,” Willow said with a smile. She took the lid off and sipped.

“Sure. How’s your grandmother?”

Her smile wavered. “Not great, but not as bad. My mom is still in Japan with her.”

“Can she bring her to the States?” Clarke took her coat off and hung it on one of the hooks just inside the back room, near the doorway.

“My dad told my mom to do that, but my grandmother is really stubborn and kind of traditional. She’s not a fan of the U.S., and it’s still kind of an issue between her and my mom, that my mom left.” She shrugged. “We have a lot of extended family there, so she’s not alone. It would be hard for her here, because she doesn’t speak much English.”

“I get it. Family situations can be difficult. I hope that her health improves. But if you need to take some time to deal with whatever while you’re all going through this, just let me know.”

She seemed to relax and her smile returned. “Thank you.”

“Of course. So is anything going on here that we need to worry about?”

“No. But it’s still early.”

Clarke laughed. “I still have one hold-out on a painting pick-up. Martin Freeman.”

“I called him yesterday. He said he’d be in this afternoon. He said he was sorry, that the holiday got too busy.”

“That’s good news.”

“I’m still working on the inventory and making sure the sales from the past six weeks are entered.”

“Great. I also have two commissions that recently came in and I’ll need you to check those over and make sure they get entered into my schedule. Things are going to get interesting, since I’ll be spending some at Arkadia University this semester.”

“Sophia called me and asked me to send those postcards out, so I’ll do that today.”

“Excellent.”

“I just need to finish printing the labels out.”

“Okay. I see I’m completely unnecessary, so I’ll just be in the back.” She smiled and turned some music on then took her coffee with her. She needed to think about preliminaries for the commissions she had to do and she also needed to work on the syllabus she’d been preparing for her time at Arkadia. She also had a few workshops she’d be doing there, and giving some lectures to the general campus and public, so she needed to get her outlines in order and make sure she had her presentations ready.

She smiled, because it seemed more like Lexa, to be so damn organized and ahead of the game. Maybe she had rubbed off on her over the years. And that probably wasn’t a good idea, thinking about Lexa and rubbing. Jesus, she missed her. And not just in the carnal sense. She missed her presence, missed the way she filled the spaces of her heart, missed her damn smiles and the way she could say so much without actually speaking.

And she had just left the day before yesterday.

Clarke sighed and went through her variety of stretched canvases, looking for a couple that would fit the parameters of the commissions she needed to do. She found three that could work, and she set those aside then organized a bit, seeing what supplies she might need. It was easier to stretch canvases here than at her house, because she needed a lot of space to do that, and a big workbench kind of set-up, and she had it here. Maybe she’d convert her garage into that kind of space down the line.

The main phone rang a few times, but Willow didn’t come and get her, so it was nothing she needed to deal with. She rearranged some of the shelves, which had gotten a little messy and she wanted to make sure things were in order going into the new year.

“Clarke, Octavia’s here.”

She turned at Willow’s announcement. “Okay. Thanks.”

Willow nodded and retreated and Clarke heard her talking to Octavia. She brushed her pants off and went into the main room.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asked as she went and gave Octavia a quick hug.

“Lunch.” Octavia held up a bag. “I brought you both sandwiches.”

Willow’s eyes widened and she smiled.

“I know Willow’s into that veggie thing Jimmie’s has, so…” Octavia took one of the sandwiches out of the bag and set it on the counter.

“Thank you so much,” Willow said.

“What’s the occasion?” Clarke asked.

“Just…Tuesday. Didn’t have time to get tacos. Sorry.”

Clarke laughed. “Thanks, O. Want a water?”

“Yes.”

“Be right back. Willow?”

“Yes.”

Clarke nodded and went to the fridge in the back and got three bottles of water.

“It’s nice out. Want to sit outside?” Octavia asked.

“Sure.” She left a bottle of water for Willow on the counter and got her coat and followed Octavia to the bench in front of the gallery. “You’re right. It is nice.” The sun was hitting the front of the gallery, so Clarke took her shades out of her coat pocket and put them on. Octavia already had hers on and she handed Clarke a sandwich and a few napkins.

“That portabello thing you like.”

“Seriously, this is great. Is everything okay?”

“Just checking in with you.”

“About what?”

“How you’re doing with Lexa not around.”

“Aww. That’s sweet.”

“That’s not a reply to my statement. How are you doing?”

Clarke took a bite before she replied. “I miss her. Is that dumb? I mean, she was just here a couple days ago.”

“No, it’s not dumb. Have you talked to her since she left?”

She snorted. “Seriously? What do _you_ think?”

“I hope that’s a yes. Raven and I have a bet on how often.”

“Of course you do. Okay, fine. Facetime both nights, and texts throughout the day. We’re like a couple of high school kids.”

Octavia laughed.

“So who wins the bet?”

“I’m winning, so far. I’ll be checking in again on Friday for a full count.”

“And how are you going to get that? I’m not keeping a tally.”

“Just teasing. Raven and I don’t actually have a bet. But we are both hoping that you’re communicating with her every day, every chance you get.”

“That’s a definite.” She took a drink of water. “I mean, it never even entered my mind that I wouldn’t be in contact with her like that. Even before things changed, we’d text a few times a week. And send photos and comment on each other’s Instagram. It’s not like we didn’t already have a habit of being in touch.”

“It’s different, now,” Octavia said. “And that’s kind of like what happened with me and Lincoln. We talked a lot before we started seeing each other, but after we did, it was like we couldn’t get enough communication in. And even now, after five years, we’re still like that. He’ll text me some goofy thing from the back office when I’m at the bar.”

“That might be one of the cutest things I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, it is. And I want that for you.”

Clarke turned to look at her. “Okay…seriously. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just really want this to work between you and Lexa because I think you’re a great match. And though I’m usually kind of a downer in this regard, and worried about reality biting everybody in the ass, I want you both to have the kind of thing that Lincoln and I do.”

Clarke put her arm around her shoulders and gave her a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Eww, Griffin,” but she laughed. “Anyway, I also figured you were missing Lexa, so I’m just doing a check-in.”

“And you’ll report back to Raven.”

“Well, duh. But for real. I know it’s hard, but she’ll be in Polis permanently soon and that’s pretty amazing.”

“Right? I mean…I’m still not sure how all that came about, but I’ve decided not to question it.”

“Good call.” Octavia shoulder-bumped her and they finished their sandwiches, the sun warm on Clarke’s face and she thought about the days before Christmas, when Lexa brought her lunch from Jimmie’s, and how something hovered in the air between them, thick and heavy with possibility.

“So when is Lexa back in town?”

Clarke stood and put her sandwich wrapper back in the bag. “Around the twentieth. She has some stuff to do in the DC office.” And then it would only be about a month before she was in Polis permanently. “Come inside for a bit. Or do you need to get to the pub?”

“Nah, I’ve got some time. Lincoln would let me know if things were crazy.”

“Cool. I need to start thinking about what to do in terms of decorating schemes post-Christmas.”

“So now I’m your decorator consultant?”

Clarke held the door open for her. “Yes. I’m admitting that I might need an outside eye.”

“Can I record this?”

“Shut up.” She smiled and closed the door behind them. Willow was working on the laptop Clarke used for business stuff and she looked up when they came in and smiled.

“Thanks again, Octavia.”

“Absolutely.”

“Want me to hang your coat up?” Clarke asked Octavia.

“Oh, is this an in-depth consult?”

She rolled her eyes an Octavia laughed and shrugged out of her coat.

Clarke went to hang them both up while Octavia stood in the middle of the room and surveyed the space.

“Spring-ish, maybe?”

“I was thinking that. I have paintings with lots of greens and blues, but also some festive stuff, too. And I have a series that I want to unveil. I think, too, I’m going to implement a new thing where I have a space to showcase art by local youth.”

Octavia looked at her, surprised. “That is a _great_ idea.”

“I’ve been talking to the high schools and the elementary schools, and everybody’s excited about it. There’s the spring art show the schools do, and the three placed winners plus two runners-up, I thought, could be featured here for a bit. Or even pieces by the top ten.”

“Five total,” Octavia said. “Keep it special like that, so that it means something. I know you want to be a platform for every student everywhere, but this really does make it a showcase, if you focus on the top five rather than the top ten or twenty or whatever.”

“Okay. So…which wall?”

Octavia pointed. “That one can be seen from the street, and it’s a cool thing to bring people in to see the stuff that young people are doing. We need to come up with signage.” She pursed her lips. “Outside sandwich boards like what you do are fun, and you change the message every day, so that’s something. Especially on weekends, when the spring tourist crowds start coming into town. Are you able to do some of those art workshops with local schools this spring like in the past? Or is the Arkadia thing going to interfere with those?”

“I’m going to do a couple on weekends, once the weather warms up a bit. I want to do those outside.”

“Cool idea.”

“Jimmie’s has already agreed to supply sandwiches.”

“Oh, nice. Are you giving them a painting or something?”

Clarke grinned. “Yep. It’s just about done.”

“Righteous. Anyway, the workshops will help promote the art here. And vice versa. I’m liking all of this. Let me think a bit about other things we can do to spring it up.”

“Thanks, O. I foresee another dinner in your future.”

She grinned. “Bring it.”

The door opened and they both turned and Clarke stared, because Luce from the flower shop came in, carrying a vase with an absolutely spectacular bouquet of…roses? Yes, roses, in deep, vibrant orange and others that were yellow with red tops. Other flowers were arranged around the roses, but her gaze was drawn immediately to the roses first.

“Hi,” Luce said with a smile. She was wearing her dark brown hair pulled back from her face, which was pretty typical when she worked at the shop, as were her faded jeans.

“Hi,” both Clarke and Octavia said.

“Delivery for you, Clarke.” And Luce’s eyes sparked with warmth.

“Um—wow. Okay. So…put that on the counter.” She exchanged a look with Octavia, who was also smiling, and who mouthed “Lexa” at her.

Willow was pretty much enchanted with the bouquet and she leaned in and sniffed. “Oh, they smell _so_ good,” she said. “What do they mean?”

Luce gave her an appreciative glance. “Glad you asked. Explaining that is part of my instructions. Clarke, you are not to read the message until after you have a sense of the meaning."

"Oh, I need popcorn for this," Octavia said, and Willow laughed.

"So let’s start from outer to inner," Luce continued. "These are peonies." She pointed at a particular flower. They come in a lot of different colors, but I liked the red here to match the red outlines on the sunset roses.” She gestured at those. “Peonies can signify good fortune and also romance."

Octavia smirked. "Of course they do."

"These—” Luce gestured at red flowers with yellow centers, “ are chrysanthemums. They, too, convey passion.”

“Uh-huh,” Octavia said. “I think I sense a theme.”

Clarke sensed it, too, in the full-body flush that raced across her skin.

Luce smiled again. “And these here are best-known as Peruvian lilies." She touched the petals of another flower. "The bluish purple helped balance the theme Octavia picked up on, as well as the color. They represent friendship, but also devotion.”

Octavia’s eyes widened. "Well, now."

Clarke shot her a look.

“And of course, the roses."

"Bring it," Octavia said.

"I’ll let Clarke read what those signify. These are orange, as you can tell, and these others, as I said earlier, are sunset.” Her smile widened to a grin. "And you can share that information or not.” She handed the folded-up paper to Clarke. “After you read the rose meanings, read the message and follow the instructions as soon as possible.”

“This is a total Lexa move,” Octavia said, and Clarke knew she was blushing again.

“Here are instructions for the proper care and feeding of your flowers so that they last a long time.” She handed Clarke another folded-up paper that she took out of her coat. “I put a couple of packets of flower food on the counter. If you have any questions, give me a call.”

Clarke nodded, which was about all she was capable of at the moment.

“Okay. I’ll leave you to it. Good to see you all.”

“Yeah,” Clarke said, flustered. She managed to remember her manners. “Oh, how’s Rachel?”

“Good. And she did approve of this arrangement. She said it’s both fiery and sexy.” She laughed. “Hope it works. Catch you later.” She left, and Clarke stared after her, then looked back at the bouquet.

“Well? What do the roses mean?” Octavia reached for the paper but Clarke stepped back.

“Hold on.” She opened the paper, which listed all the flowers along with brief descriptions that applied to them. She found orange roses and read what Luce had written.

_Desire, enthusiasm, passion. The giver wants the recipient in her life. Can also symbolize a bridge between friendship (yellow roses) and love (red roses)_.

Again with the full-body flush.

"C'mon, Griff. What?" Octavia tried to read over her shoulder and Clarke stepped away again and found the description of sunset roses.

She had to read it a few times before it actually sank in.

_Falling in love._

Oh, God.

“What?” Octavia reached for the paper but Clarke pulled it away. “Griff—”

“Give me a minute.” She took the small envelope off its plastic holder and opened it, and her fingers might have been trembling a little.

_Call me._ _–L_

Clarke took her phone out. “Be right back.” She went to the door, forcing herself not to dance around like she’d lost her mind.

“What the actual fuck?” Octavia said. “Give me the paper.”

“In a minute,” Clarke said as she stepped outside where she took a deep breath and called Lexa and fuck, what if she was in a meeting or something and couldn’t talk? What kind of message should she leave?

Lexa picked up on the second ring. “Hey,” she said and oh, the sound of her voice.

“Hi. So, Luce from Floral Designs just stopped by. But I have a feeling you know that.”

Soft laugh. “I do.”

Clarke could hear her smile through the phone. “She told me to follow the instructions in the card as soon as possible.”

“Which means you also know what the flowers mean.” She sounded tentative, a little cautious. “I guess—”

“Goddammit, Lexa.” She sat down on the bench. “Why are you not here? Because I really need to see you. Can I Facetime you?”

“Um. Yes…”

“Good. Hanging up now.” She did, waited a few moments, then called her back.

Lexa answered, a quizzical expression in her eyes and fuck, her hair was falling around her shoulders and she had on a cream-colored silk shirt, top couple of buttons undone, a simple gold chain around her neck. “Hi,” Lexa said again and she smiled and fuck, it was everything.

“Okay, this might not have been a good idea because you look fucking edible.”

“Says the fabulously beautiful artist.”

She smiled, heart rate increasing. “So—”

“I wanted—”

They both laughed.

“You first,” Clarke said.

Lexa nodded. “Okay. Um. So I wanted to—I’ve never sent you flowers and I really wanted to.”

She waited.

“And sometimes, even if I have the words, they don’t really convey what I’m trying to say. All those things that the flowers mean—that’s how I feel about you. And it’s not anything sudden, I realized. It’s something that’s been building and finally—finally, I feel like I can express it.”

Her heart filled then overflowed with a plethora of emotions that cascaded through her body. She wanted to cry and laugh and shout and if there was a happy meter, it broke.

“And if it’s too soon and you need some time, that’s fine. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you. I just needed you to know.” She exhaled. “Yeah. Just…I needed you to know.” She shrugged and smiled. “Okay. Your turn.”

How was this happening? How was she so fucking amazing? “I love the flowers. Everything about them. Especially what they mean and I really, really wish you were here right now because I feel the same way about you and I—I just…shit. I just really need you close.”

“Well. Good thing I’m moving, then, huh?” Her grin was hopeful and sweet but her eyes sparked with so much more.

“You have no idea. And now I’m going to let you go because you probably have a bunch of lawyer things to do and I want to make sure that when we talk later, nothing interrupts."

“So are you asking me on a talk date?” she asked with a half-smile.

"Yes. Hoping you'll say yes."

"Always."

"God, you're amazing. And now I'm seriously going to go before I monopolize your entire day."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that."

Clarke was about to sign off when Octavia burst out of the gallery.

“I cannot, Griffin. Willow and I looked up the roses and—” she stopped and leaned over Clarke’s shoulder. “Hardcore romantic, Woods. And I’m generally an asshole about that kind of stuff, but damn. Just…damn.”

“Jesus Christ,” Clarke said. “O, what the actual—”

Lexa laughed. “Glad you approve.”

Clarke knew her cheeks were ablaze with a blush. “You’re a total enabler,” she said to Octavia. “Leading Willow down these paths of nosiness.”

Octavia huffed. “Me? She suggested it. Anyway, I’ll leave you two to your heart eyes and flower talk. I have to get to the pub.” She draped herself over Clarke and gave her a squeeze. “I’ll see you when I see you, Lexa. Thumbs up. And Griff, I’ll talk to you later.” She stood, flashed a wicked little smile, and started walking away.

“Thanks for lunch,” Clarke called after her. Octavia threw her a wave. She looked at Lexa. “And on that note…”

She laughed. “We’ll talk later.”

Clarke kissed her fingertips and held them up toward Lexa. “Sunset roses back atcha,” she said softly. “Bye.”

Lexa’s eyes widened in surprise and amazement, like Clarke single-handedly built part of her world and then she blew her a kiss and hung up and Clarke sat back, sparks chasing each other through her chest.

She went back inside where Willow was sweeping the gallery. She looked up and smiled.

“Go ahead. Ask.”

She shrugged. “I just think it’s so great.” She leaned on the broom handle. “That’s someone who’s really into you and thinks about the little things, too. I mean, look how carefully they picked out the flowers.”

“You’ve met her,” Clarke said as she took a couple of photos of the bouquet.

Willow cocked her head.

“Lexa. She was here the end of June and you were working the day she came by. She went to get coffee for me and a chai for you.” She looked over at her and Willow’s eyes widened.

“No way.”

Clarke smiled and nodded.

“For real? Wow. She’s legit.”

“Yeah. She is.” Clarke sent a photo of the bouquet to Abby first, then she group-messaged Polis crew, though Raven and Anya had probably already seen it because of Octavia, but maybe not.

“So…” Willow said and Clarke laughed.

“Lexa and I have known each other for a while. We met in college.”

“I remember you said that when she came in over the summer. So what happened?”

Clarke stared at the flowers for a moment then looked over at her. “Not sure. I guess we both got tired of not saying what we felt and we both came up with plans to tell each other over Christmas. And then it kind of turned into a holiday romcom.”

Willow stared at her, smiling.

“Fine. Do you want the story?”

“Oh, my God, yes.”

Clarke laughed and quickly told her the basics of what had happened, idly toying with the necklace Lexa had bought for her. She ignored the text messages blowing up her phone.

“That’s so romantic,” Willow said when she finished. “And she’s moving back to Polis.” She shook her head. “Wow. That’s some kind of Christmas.”

Another text message hit Clarke’s phone and Willow laughed.

“Guess I’m not the only one who thinks the flowers are off the chain.”

“Clearly not.” She finally picked up her phone and Willow continued sweeping. Raven had sent several texts, and Octavia had told everyone what the roses symbolized and Raven’s response had been five texts with nothing but heart eyes while Anya’s response was one with a thumbs-up. Abby had responded separately.

_Gorgeous. Do the flowers have particular meanings?_

Clarke responded with a brief overview of what the flowers meant and Abby texted back soon after with a series of heart emojis.

The gallery’s phone rang. “I’ve got it,” Willow said, holding the phone up. “Also, Doctor Freeman is here.” She motioned toward the front windows and sure enough, there he was, locking his car up. He tended to wear a Kangol, and today’s was red and green plaid. He clearly was still celebrating Christmas.

Clarke smiled. “Thanks,” she said and she went into the back to get his painting, the last one from her show that had sold. When she returned to the counter he had come in and was standing near the counter.

“Hi, Martin,” she said. “Hope your Christmas went well.”

“It did. Just busy.” He looked at the roses. “And these are beautiful. Luce’s work?” He smiled, sly.

“Yes.” She looked at them again, and Jesus, her heart.

“I know a lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” he said, but whoever sent those clearly thinks the world of you. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat and handed him the wrapped painting, one of her medium-sized canvases. “My contact information is taped to the back. I always appreciate it when people hang my work up and take photos of it and send those to me so I can post them to my Instagram account. You don’t need to be in the photo if that’s not your thing, but it’s fun to see the homes each of my paintings gets.”

He smiled. “I will do that. This one’s going in my office lobby. It’s calming, and I think it’ll help people. You know how stressful it can be to visit the doctor.”

“I appreciate that. I hope it helps. And if you have any more questions about it or you decide you want it framed, just let me know.”

“I will.” He glanced at the roses again. “Inspiring. I haven’t given my wife flowers in a while. Think I’ll stop by Luce’s.” He tipped his Kangol at her. “Happy New Year.”

“Same to you.” She walked him to the front. “Got it?” she asked, motioning at his car as she opened the door.

“Yep. Bye, Clarke.”

She watched him for a bit to make sure he got it into his car all right, then turned back to Willow, who had finished sweeping and was wiping the counter down, working around the roses, but clearly smelling them every chance she got.

“As much as I like having these here, you should totally take them home,” Willow said.

“I figured I would, but why do you think so?”

“Because this is between you and Lexa, and it’s nice to have what she thinks about you with you at home, so you see it first thing in the morning and last thing at night.”

“That is a really beautiful thought.”

She shrugged. “You care about each other. Obvi.” She gestured at the roses and smiled. “And since she’s not here right now, the flowers are the next best thing to have in your house until she is. Also, don’t forget to cut the stems at an angle as they continue to bloom.” She held up the paper with instructions. “It would be so great if these lasted a really long time.”

“Maybe I should just leave them here so you can keep an eye on them,” Clarke teased.

Willow gave her a “seriously?” look.

“Kidding. But I’ll take pictures of them for you to inspect to make sure I’m taking care of them.”

“That works.” She carefully picked up the vase and moved them out of the way, to the other end of the counter. “Are you seeing her for New Year’s?” she asked and Clarke didn’t respond for a moment, staring at the roses, thoughts of Lexa and everything that had happened since the night of her show flashing through her mind.

“You know, neither of us had planned on it, but I just decided that yes, I am.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, you should totally surprise her.”

“I just might.” Who was she kidding? Of course she was going to try to surprise her.

Willow grinned. “Good.” They both looked up as a group of people came in and Clarke went into professional mode, greeting them with a smile and letting them know she was the artist if they had any questions.

“You should go up New Year’s Eve,” Willow said after the group had left. One of the women had bought a smaller piece, but she had been eyeing a larger, and Clarke suspected there might be a future sale there. “I mean, you’re closed New Year’s Day, which is Saturday. I’m here on Sunday, so you wouldn’t have to worry about staying closed for another day.”

Clarke looked up from her tablet, where she was entering the sale. “I think I have a press thing New Year’s Eve.”

“You do. An interview with ArtSpace. But it’s at eleven. You’ll have plenty of time to get to DC to catch an afternoon train to New York.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’ve got this all mapped out.”

Willow shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you go?” She gestured at the roses. “I mean—look at these. You can catch an afternoon train and be in New York by six or seven. That’s plenty of time to get there to celebrate New Year’s Eve. And then you can come back Sunday evening. Or Monday. Sophia’s back then, too, and we can handle anything here.”

She laughed. “It’ll be Sunday. Lexa has to work Monday.”

“But you’ll still have Saturday and most of Sunday with her.”

She picked up her phone to respond to more text messages just as another small group of people came in.

Willow went to greet them, and Clarke called up the Amtrak website and found a 3.00 that got into New York at 6.30. That was the one Lexa had taken a couple days ago. And because she would just have a backpack, it would be pretty easy to maneuver through the subway to get to Lexa’s neighborhood. She bought that ticket. It was easier to buy one-ways between NYC and DC, so she got a separate ticket coming back Sunday afternoon and it felt like Christmas all over again.

Willow came back to the counter. “I said if they had any questions, you’re the artist. I think they’re just browsing, but you never know.”

“True. Do you think we should have water out? With sliced fruit in it or something? Or maybe coffee?”

“I don’t know. What if somebody spills?”

“That’s what worries me about that. But if they come in, they know it’s a gallery and people tend to be more careful. And if they do spill, it’ll probably be on the floor, which is easy to clean.” She picked up her phone again. “Let’s think about it and run it by Sophia on Monday.”

Willow nodded then waited, expectant, and Clarke laughed.

“I bought tickets. I’m going to New York Friday afternoon. I’ll be back Sunday evening.”

“Yes,” she said softly with a fist-pump. “Is it a surprise for her?”

“I’m going to try to keep it that way.”

“Yes,” she said again as one of the people who had come in approached the counter and Clarke got up to talk to him and the woman who had come in with him. Twenty minutes later he bought one of her medium-sized works and she wrapped the painting in the back while Willow chatted with the buyer. She brought it to the counter and taped her card the back.

“If you’re into it, I always love to see where my art finds a home and I post photos from buyers on my Instagram. My email address is on my card.” She turned the painting around and pointed at it. “Make sure the photo doesn’t reveal much about you or your home or office or wherever you hang the painting. I post the photo with the name of the painting and the date of sale.”

He smiled. “Cool. We’ll for sure do that.”

“Great. Happy New Year.”

“You, too.” He picked up that painting and went to the door, but the woman lingered.

“The flowers are beautiful,” she said as she leaned in to sniff.

“Right? I love roses.” And the person who sent them, but she didn’t say that part out loud.

“So do I.” She straightened. “Do you do commissions?”

“Yes. Just let me know what you’re interested in and the size and we can go from there.” Clarke handed her a business card.

“Great.” She put the card in her coat pocket. “Thank you.” Her gaze lingered on the roses for a moment before she left and Clarke hoped that if the guy she came in with was a romantic prospect or partner that he got her roses in the very near future.

She went back into the storage area and decided she should bring some of the work she’d recently completed from home to showcase. One of the larger pieces would look really good on the wall opposite Lexa’s tower for the next couple of months. And then she smiled. Lexa’s tower. She liked how that sounded and she automatically touched her necklace then held it away from her body and snapped a photo of it because she wanted to email it to Tess and find out if she could make something similar for Lexa. Something with a gear cog that looked like the one in the necklace. Maybe a bracelet or another necklace. Probably a necklace, since Lexa tended to wear those more than bracelets or rings.

“Hey, Clarke,” Willow said from the doorway. “Okay if I leave?”

“Of course. You good on hours here?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in the rest of the week.”

“Okay, but knock off when I do on Friday if you want so you can go get ready for New Year’s.”

She smiled and nodded. “Cool. See you tomorrow morning.”

“Yep. Thanks.” She quickly finished organizing a few more paintings and making sure they were appropriately wrapped before she went out into the other room with a sketch pad. She was still working on the commission designs and she wanted to have a working idea in the next week or two.

The smell of roses teased her nose and she stopped and stared at them for a while, and a slow tide of warmth rolled through her because holy shit. She touched one of the sunset roses, thinking about what it meant and how it captured what she felt, too. And it wasn’t something that had suddenly happened. It was, instead, like what Lexa had said. Something that had been building and what was happening now was the recognition of it.

But she didn’t want to push, either, so she’d let things unfold as they needed to, at a speed that was comfortable for both of them. And she’d get her ass up to NYC for the new year.

Sometimes you had to go with your impulses, and this was definitely one of those times. She finished up some paperwork and data entry then texted Lexa because damn, she missed her.

_I seriously cannot stop thinking about you._ She set her phone down and went to check the back door then put her coat on, slung her bag over her shoulder and set the alarm before she picked up the roses and left by the front, keys in hand to make it easy to lock up. She got a text message as she was walking to her car and she hoped it was Lexa, but she didn’t check until she put her stuff in her car and the roses positioned on the front passenger seat where she could hold onto the vase as she drove the few blocks to her house. She belted up and checked her phone before she started driving.

_God, how you make me feel…will be home in a couple of hours. Have a glass of wine with me?_

Clarke leaned back and smiled, holding the phone against her chest. Though she would of course prefer to be in Lexa’s presence, Facetime wine would be fun, too. Any kind of time she could get with her was well worth it.

_YES_ , she texted back before she went home and put the roses on the island in the kitchen. She then took a selfie with them and sent it to Lexa. In a couple of hours, they’d be Facetiming, but in the meantime, she’d make some pasta, continue to stare at the roses with a huge, stupid grin, and count down until New Year’s Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GAWD, Y'ALL!
> 
> Welcome to my goofy/fluffy mash-up of this Clexa AU and the movie [Imagine Me and You](http://www.foxsearchlight.com/imaginemeandyou/), with Luce the florist and Rachel, her GF (GF-to-be in the movie! SEE IT!).
> 
> And okay, I also mashed in the title of one of my free short stories called "Floral Designs." If you're interested, you can [download a copy (FREE!) over at Smashwords](https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/924844). I kind of have a fascination with flowers, and I just couldn't fucking resist bringing in some flowers where Clexa is concerned. :D
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, and you can find me on [Tumblr](http://www.andimarquette.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http//www.twitter.com/andimarquette) if you feel like finding me/yelling at me.


	15. Team Clexa Lasagna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa gets a work offer she really can't refuse and Clarke implements mission Make New Year's Eve Our Bitch.

Friday morning and God, how many times was she going to look at this picture of Clarke? Millions, clearly. Lexa stared at the selfie Clarke had sent her, taken in her kitchen with the roses and there was something about the expression in her eyes...affection and excitement but also something else. Lexa studied the photo for a while.

Certainty.

Was that it? A certainty about what was happening between them? It sure felt like it, with every text, photo, call, and Facetime session they’d had over the past couple of days.

Lexa sighed and closed her phone. She had a bunch of shit she needed to finish up before she went out for New Year’s drinks with her colleagues and she could easily blow off the next few hours looking at photos of Clarke and texting her.

Maybe she should have gone to Polis for New Year’s.

She drummed her fingers on her desk. If she got out of here around two, she could be at home thirty minutes after that. Another thirty minutes to throw some clothes into a bag and then maybe forty-five minutes to Penn Station—she sighed again. Even if she could pull that off, she might not get to Polis until eight or nine. Maybe ten.

Which wouldn’t be terrible. But it would also put her behind a little here, and she needed to get shit finished in the next few hours so she could take tomorrow and part of Sunday and do some packing and organizing. The sooner she got things ready, the easier this move would be.

A text came in and she checked her phone.

_Happy New Year’s Eve! [heart eyes emoji]_

She laughed and texted Clarke back. _Happy New Year’s Eve back! Ready for your interview?_ She sipped her coffee and waited for the response, wishing they were still in bed and Clarke was cuddled next to her.

_It’s at eleven. Still have time a couple of hours. [smile emoji] And you’d better still be going to have a fun New Year’s drink today._

_Yes. But wish you were here to enjoy it with me._

_Same. You have no idea how much._

She smiled, heartbeat speeding up. _I think I do. [heart emoji]_ Christ, maybe she should just get a ticket right now and go to Polis this afternoon.

She called up the Amtrak site on her laptop.

A knock sounded on her door.

“It’s open.”

“Hi,” Kelly said as she leaned in. “Got a minute?” She held her mug, which had an image of Supreme Court justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg and the words “Notorious RBG” on it. She was probably drinking her usual cup of coffee.

“Yep. What’s up?”

“We might have a breakthrough on West Virginia.”

“Opposing counsel all disappeared over the Bermuda Triangle and the replacement team is willing to work with us?”

“Um…no.”

“And here I thought you said breakthrough.”

She laughed. “There’s movement. They’ve scheduled a conference call for two this afternoon. I checked your schedule and you’re clear and I really want to find out what they’re offering.”

Fuck. “Really? And they have to do this meeting today? On New Year’s Eve?”

Kelly shrugged. “Maybe they’re willing to settle. It’ll give us something else to celebrate.”

Lexa rolled her eyes. If the meeting finished in a reasonable amount of time, she could still get a ticket to DC, but the lawyers for the other side on this case were classic stereotypical corporate-style douches and would drag it out as long as they could to inconvenience them all.

“I’m sure they want to have time for their own plans tonight.”

“Which are to fuck with the lady lawyers at the evil progressive ACLU on New Year’s Eve.”

Kelly half-laughed. “I got the feeling they wanted to take care of business right away. It’s almost like they actually _do_ have friends and family…” she trailed off and Lexa managed a smile.

“Are you suggesting they might be human?”

“It’s possible.” She stepped into the office, closed the door, and sat down in one of the chairs in front of Lexa’s desk. Kelly had a way about her so that when she did something like this, it felt totally welcoming and casual, even if it meant she had some serious shit to talk about.

“Does this mean I don’t have to bring my asshole lawyer side to this call?”

Kelly laughed. “Probably not, since they seem to be extending an olive branch, though I do enjoy how you apply that side for maximum effect.” She sipped from her cup and smiled. “I suspect that’s actually your default, that whole badass thing you’ve got going on.”

“So I’m faking everybody out with the softer side?”

“Not at all.” She took another sip. “True badasses have a softer side. They’re just good at deploying the side needed in the right circumstances for the best effect.”

Lexa chuckled. “A state of permanent badassery, huh?”

She shrugged and smiled. “You’re not on the cases you’re on by accident.”

“And here I thought it was my charming side that landed those.”

Kelly’s smile widened. “I like that you think that, when actually, you’re one of my big guns, Lexa.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Thanks…?” Okay, that was unexpected.

“It’s true. When I need shit done and I need it done right with a badass edge, you’re who I want both in the castle and out in the arena.”

“I’m not sure what to do with all this Game of Thrones-ish imagery I just got, but I think I like it.”

“Good. And this is a big part of why I want you in DC. I’ll miss having you here, but we need you in DC as our point person.”

Wait. What? Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out what exactly she meant.

“Matt and I have talked about it with Adrian and Genevieve and we’d like you to consider directing the DC office.”

She stared.

“We don’t expect you to make a decision right now, since we know you’ll need some time to get everybody there used to you and your style, and you’ll need to map it out and see what needs doing, but we want our DC office to be super badass, and that’s really why I want you on this and why I’m so glad that you want to go.” She took another sip, like it was just another day, another convo.

“What’s your timeline?” she asked, cautious.

“I’d like you to be pretty much directing it by this time next year. And if it’s sooner than that, and the others there are enthusiastic about it, great.”

She sat back, a bunch of different things going through her mind.

“You have a gift with leadership, and we’d like you to be able to use it.”

“Is this mostly a management thing?”

“No. I mean, there is management required, but you’d have a second-in-command, if you will, who could deal with most personnel issues. Granted, you will have to do some of that, but we want you on cases, too, to serve as point and also as a mentor to younger attorneys.”

“I’m not exactly that much older,” she said, tone wry.

Kelly laughed. “You’re not going in without backup. Titus requested this, too.”

She must have looked surprised because Kelly laughed again.

“He likes you, and sees in you the future. He says you’re a visionary, and he’s been in this business a long time. Not much fazes him, but he’s been watching you for a couple of years, and says you’re the real deal. His words.”

“What does that even mean?”

She smiled. “You’re a genuine leader, you have genuine talent, and you’re a great strategist. His words again. And ours.”

Lexa regarded her.

“We think it’s time you got to put all that to work. And we’d like you to start building a team in DC, and making that office as badass as you are.” She paused. “I know this is sudden, but I wanted you to start thinking about it, and about the kind of crew you’d like to create there. That is, if you’d like to do this. And we’re all hoping you will, of course.”

“How much leeway do I have?”

“How so?”

“You said you want me to build a team. Do I get to do my own recruiting in addition to standard job applications?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely. In fact, Titus suggested that, because he thinks you have a good sense of what aspects of the office need to be strengthened and what needs to be trimmed or shifted around.”

“Is the board okay with this?”

“Yes.”

“What about the DC office? The other eight might not be as okay with this as Titus is.”

Her eyes seemed to twinkle. “When Titus made the announcement that you’re relocating to the area and will be based at that office, the question was whether you’d be willing to lead it. They’d like to have a definitive leader on site, since they’ve been functioning as a satellite of Baltimore and New York and we are trying to implement more effective local structures so people don’t feel like they’re an afterthought.”

She frowned. “So nobody else at that office wants to do it?”

Kelly rested her cup on the arm of the chair. “Titus has been keeping an eye on the current staff. Three want to go into private practice. Three others haven’t even been there a year. And the other two—well, those are the young ones I want you to assess and mentor. Titus is a smart guy, but he doesn’t always have the best rapport with people. Those two in particular.”

Lexa snort-laughed. She had picked up on that months ago.

“Anyway, I know this is sudden and I don’t expect an answer right away, and if it’s absolutely something you don’t want to do, that’s fine. I still want you in the DC office.” She stood. “Also, Matt wants to know what’s going on with Danbury. Can you give him a call?”

“Yep. Fortunately, all good things with that. Seems like the other side is getting cold feet about a trial.”

“Good.”

“Right?” Trial prep was a whole other animal and though she had confidence in this case, you never knew what opposing counsel would pull out of their asses.

“See you later this afternoon in the big conference room.” She gripped the door handle.

“Thanks,” Lexa said before Kelly opened the door.

“Just telling you truths.” She raised her cup at her and left, closing the door behind her.

Holy shit.

Was she ready for this?

Lexa sat for a bit, then texted Clarke.

 _I just got some news. And here I am, using tech to alert you to it. [smile emoji]_ She set her phone down and started looking at the Amtrak schedules. If the phone call in the afternoon ended at three—

A message interrupted.

 _ _can i call?_   _Clarke texted.

_yes_

Her phone rang a few seconds later.

“Hey,” Lexa answered.”

“Hi,” Clarke said, and fuck, her voice. Lexa closed her eyes and let just the sound of that one word wash over her. “First, thanks for not waiting a day to tell me,” she continued, and Lexa heard the smile in her tone.

“Well, I’m trying to learn how to deal with these devices and all.”

She laughed. “I do appreciate it. What’s the news?”

“Kelly was just in my office and apparently, she and other leadership here don’t just think me relocating to DC is a good idea. They also want me to head up that office.”

Pause. “Oh, my God. As in, the boss of it?”

“Pretty much. They want me to create a team.”

“And basically shape the office.”

“Yeah. Basically.”

“Fuck, this is awesome news.” The excitement in her voice was palpable. “So how is this going to work?”

“Kelly said she’d like me to be fully in charge by this time next year. They want me to have a look at things when I start there, think about what we need and the kind of team we should have, and probably to start doing some recruiting.”

“This—shit, I don’t have the words for how amazing this is. Also, I just would like to point out again how awesome it is that you didn’t wait to contact me with this fabulous news. I feel like we’re kind of celebrating together.”

Lexa laughed. “Okay, okay. You might be right, about how it’s not always cool to be old-fashioned.”

“As cute as I think that quirk of yours is, I’m so appreciating right now that you’re letting me know—wait. Did you find this out yesterday and you’re telling me now?” She was teasing and Lexa’s smile widened.

“Ha, ha. I texted you that I just got the news. Kelly left my office a few minutes ago.”

“Wow. This is seriously fresh news. So what did you tell her?”

“Nothing yet. She told me to take my time on a decision, and if I don’t want to be the boss, that’s fine. She still thinks I’ll be good for the DC office.”

“If you don’t want to be boss? Did you—do you not want this?”

“No, I do. I’m just…a little worried.”

“About what?”

She didn’t respond right away because she wasn’t sure how to put her concern into words.

“Lexa?”

“Yeah. It’s—I’m worried about work-life balance.” She idly clicked through the schedules of the Amtrak lines to DC from New York. “It’s a lot of work.”

“So build that balance into your new office. Make sure the things you think are important are incorporated into the work culture. You get to do that. Unless you really don’t want this position. If you don’t, that’s okay, but I think you’d be amazing as the DC office commander. Whatever you choose, you should do what makes you happy.”

“Did you just refer to me as office commander?”

Clarke laughed. “Actually, I think it sounds cooler without office tacked on. DC commander. That’s better.”

She smiled. “Yeah, it kind of is.”

“And it could be you.”

“It could.”

“You’re still hesitating. What’s bothering you?”

Dammit, she could even read her over the phone. “You’ve already said I’m a workaholic. I’m worried this might make that worse.” And she knew something like that could drive people apart.

“Only if you let it. That’s part of being commander, is knowing your strengths and recognizing your limits. Also, I tease you about that because—well, because I know how you are. You’re driven. It’s part of you, and I admire and respect you for all you’ve accomplished. But I’m thinking you need me around to remind you to relax a bit.” She chuckled. “I’ve been doing that with you for years. Just so you know, I’m planning to keep doing it.”

Lexa leaned back again and stared at the ceiling.

“Plus, you’ll be closer, so it’ll be easier for me to drag you out on…I don’t know. Picnics every once in a while.”

The thought of Clarke showing up at her office with lunch gave her a huge case of feels. “I am so here—there—for a Clarke Griffin picnic.”

“See? I’m your reminder to chill on the workaholic thing. But I’m still thinking that’s not entirely why you’re hesitating.”

Shit. “I don’t want to be a workaholic when I’ve got you in my life.” There. She said it. “But I’m afraid that I don’t know how not to be driven, and that it’ll just piss you off and I’ll fuck things up between us.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes with her free hand.

“Okay, I need you to listen. Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good. One, this is a great opportunity. You’re perfect for what they’re asking. You know it, they know it, I know it. Two, you want this. We all know that. Three, if something like this is going to drive me away, then I’m an asshole and don’t deserve you.”

“Clarke—”

“Uh-uh. Listen.”

She clamped her mouth shut.

“Four, I said this already, but I’ll say it again. I’ve known about your working ways for years and…here we are. It sure as hell hasn’t been a deterrent in the past.”

“We weren’t—” she paused. What exactly were they doing? “Seeing each other,” she finished, but it sounded kind of quaint.

“And? My feelings for you have never stopped. They got a lot stronger over the years. And you’ve been kind of a workaholic throughout.” There was another smile in her tone.

“But it’s different, now. There’s more investment and intent and I don’t want to fuck this up. You mean too much to me.”

“Thank you. But, five, let’s give each other some agency, here. I appreciate that you’re thinking about a big decision like this with me in mind as part of your process, but again, I’d be a huge asshole and not a very supportive partner for you if I’m so easily driven away by you working in a position that’s fulfilling, that might require that you invest time and energy into it, that you’re going to fucking love, and that will challenge you in ways you need to be challenged.”

Lexa couldn’t have responded if she wanted to, because Clarke had used the term “partner” in reference to her and their relationship, and as clinical as that sometimes sounded, it sure as hell did not sound like that now, and her heart eyes might be permanent.

“I care about you, and I want you to engage in things that will feed the parts of you that make you who you are. I know that this situation between us is new in some ways, but guess what? I know you and that force in you that drove you into this field where you do so much good and help so many people? That’s _also_ the Lexa Woods I care about, and there is no way I would stifle that or force you to choose between who you are and me. That’s not what I signed up for.”

A silence stretched between them, filled with things both spoken and not, and Lexa really, really wanted to be with her in Polis.

“And that escalated quickly, didn’t it?” Clarke said, but there was a smile in her tone. “My point is, I think this is a great opportunity for you, but whatever you decide—as long as it’s for you—I’ll support it. Also, thanks for telling me.”

She smiled. “Fuck, I miss you.”

“Says the eloquent, big-city attorney,” Clarke said with a laugh.

“Yeah, okay. And thanks for talking. I’m still struggling with not wanting you to feel like I’m pressuring you into something with me you’re not ready for but also wanting to make sure you know how important you are to me.”

“I know. I struggle with that, too, but ultimately, I’m just really happy that we’re in this situation together.”

“I kind of love that when people ask me what’s going on between us, I can say, ‘oh, well, we’re in a situation together’.”

“Which is exactly what I want. Any and all situations with you.”

“That definitely has my vote.” She glanced at the clock on her laptop. “And shit, I have a call in a few minutes. And then I have to get ready for a meeting. Text me after your interview, let me know how it goes.”

“Will do. Promise me you’ll go out after work for that drink.”

She smiled again. “Making sure I don’t succumb to my workaholic ways?”

“Getting you into the habit, so you implement it as part of your DC commander role.”

“I’m in it for the picnic.”

“Whatever works. Go deal with your call. I’ll for sure talk to you later, because I fucking miss you, too.”

“Happy interview.”

“Talk soon. Bye.”

“Yes. Bye.” She set her phone aside just as her desk phone rang. The call took about a half-hour and when she hung up, she headed to the bathroom then to the kitchen area for another cup of coffee before she stopped at Kelly’s office. The door was halfway open, and Kelly was working on her laptop. She looked up when Lexa tapped on the door to let her know she was there. She raised her eyebrows, expression questioning.

“So I thought about it and I’m in,” Lexa said.

Kelly grinned. “Excellent. That’s really excellent news. We can start talking about it after the New Year.”

“Sounds great.”

“Also, if the West Virginia meeting doesn’t go forever, Adrian wants to touch base about a couple things at four.” Her work cell rang and she rolled her eyes and reached for it. “Sorry,” she said. “See you after lunch.”

Lexa gave her a sympathetic smile and went back to her office, where she stood for a moment, letting it sink in. And then she laughed. “DC commander,” she muttered as she sat back down and called up some files on her laptop so she could brief Matt. And with the Adrian call at four, it was just not going to be conducive for her to get to Polis today.

Well, when she was there toward the middle of the month, she and Clarke could celebrate then.

And that was an extremely distracting but also very pleasant thought.

She smiled again and reached for the phone. The sooner she got done here, the sooner she could have that drink then go home and Facetime a bit with Clarke.

###

“Thanks for the ride to the station,” Clarke said as she got into the passenger side of Raven’s car. “And thanks for letting me leave my car at your house.”

“Any time. And besides, I am all about facilitating Clexa hookups.” She grinned and waited for Clarke to buckle up before she started the car. She had implemented hand controls, but didn’t use them all the time, since people used their right legs for driving on automatics and that was Raven’s good leg.

“Who else besides us and O and Lincoln know you’re doing this awesome surprise?” she asked.

“That’s it. I didn’t want to risk an inadvertent group message going out that Lexa would see before I got there. I mean, I love Polis crew but…”

“Totally get it.” She backed out of the driveway. “When do you get in on Sunday?”

“Six-ish. I’ll text.”

“Cool. And can I just say that I still want a block party to commemorate this epic ship?”

Clarke laughed. “How about a barbecue after Lexa gets settled in Polis?”

“That’s almost as good, so I’ll take it.” She gave her a quick look. “For now.”

“Damn, Reyes. She doesn’t even know anybody on her block, yet. Give her some time to introduce herself before a block party.”

“We can use your block. Or, even better, the pub. We’ll get a party permit for a street fair.”

“Oh, my God.”

“I might want jugglers.” She slowed down for traffic. “And a bouncy castle.”

“You are too much.”

“But yet you still love me.” She grinned.

“True. But seriously. Jugglers?”

“Fine. Acrobats, then.”

Clarke snort-laughed. “How about juggling acrobats?”

“That’s the spirit, Griff. Epic party for an epic ship.” She sped up and Clarke was glad she had left Polis when she did. She was already cutting it a little close, but Raven knew DC traffic and the best routes to take at certain times, so she tried not to stress about missing her train.

“So how are things with your shipmate?” Raven asked, tone innocent.

“Oh, shit. I hate that you called her that, but I kind of love it, too.” She would totally tell Lexa that when she saw her.

“Many people have that reaction to things I say. So? How’s it going? And don’t say it with flowers. Lexa’s got us both beat in that category. Just fucking tell me.”

“I’ve been using the word ‘amazing’ a lot, but I don’t think it really captures it. Also, she got really good news today.”

“She inherited a tiki bar from a long-lost relative and we’re all going to run it?”

“No, but I’m definitely putting that thought in my to-do folder.”

“You could do some righteous art for it.”

“Maybe I’ll do a tiki series.”

“I’m so here for that gallery opening. So what’s the news?”

“Her job wants to make her boss of the DC office.”

“Holy shit.”

“Right?”

“That’s the fucking shit. What did she say?”

“She was a little worried about it being way too much work and not having a healthy work-life balance, but she accepted it after we talked and I told her whatever decision she made I would support, but I thought she’d be fucking perfect in the position.

Raven didn’t respond right away and when Clarke looked over at her, she was smiling.

“What?”

“She called you when she got the offer?”

“Yeah.”

“And she worked her decision through with you?”

“Yes. So what?”

Raven laughed. “That’s some serious couple energy.”

“It—” Hell. No denying it. “Yeah. It is. And it feels like it and I’m worried that maybe I should be more worried about it.”

“No, you should not.”

“I mean, everything with her just feels…right. Safe. Exciting. Amazing. See? That word again.”

“And that’s why you shouldn’t worry.”

“You don’t think it’s weird that it’s only been a little over a week and I’m already totally into her?”

“Whatever, Clarke. You’ve been into her since the first time you saw her, and you’ve had literally years to get to know each other. It’s been so much longer than a week or ten days or whatever the hell. Besides, I knew you two were perfect for each other.” She smacked the steering wheel for emphasis. “Knew it. I had a feeling about it when I met Lexa.”

“But there were a bunch of us there that night.” She remembered it, too, because it was a few days after she had first met Lexa, and they had all gone to dinner then ended up at Bellamy’s, which seemed to be party central for them that year.

“Oh, please. I’d gotten to know you pretty well, and Jesus, the way you looked at Lexa that night.”

“What look? What are you talking about?”

“Thirsty. _So_ thirsty,” she said, laughing, and Clarke laughed too.

“Can you blame me? I thought she was seriously sexy.” Which hadn’t changed.

“Because she is. But you have certain looks for certain categories of people in your life, and that one went beyond thirst.”

“Oh, my God. You have a classification system for this?”

“I’m a scientist. It’s what I do. And yes.”

I don’t know why I’m doing this, but go ahead. What category did that night’s look fall under, if it wasn’t just thirst?”

“Possibility.”

“Okay…”

“For long-term.”

“Shut up,” she said, laughing again.

“It’s true. You looked at Lexa that night like she personally went outside and hung the stars just for you.”

“I’m not sure what to do with such a romantic sentiment coming from you.” But fuck, she remembered that night, and she wasn’t sure what specifically it was because Lexa was a totality. Everything about her turned every crank Clarke had, from her smile and laugh to the depths of her eyes...the way she entered a room, the way she occupied it—everything.

“Whatever. I’m still right. Though it took you two idiots long enough to do something about it. Every time you visited each other, the rest of us would think okay, this is it, they’re finally going to do it. But no. What the actual hell?”

Clarke smiled. “The timing wasn’t right.”

“Clearly.” Raven turned onto a different street and Clarke almost sighed with relief because they were almost to Union Station and she had a little over a half-hour before boarding started.

“She looked at you the same way,” Raven said after a few more moments.

“But you had just met her. How could you tell?”

“Lexa’s pretty guarded, but after her second beer, that kind of slipped a little. She looked at you like she couldn’t believe that you actually existed, and what the hell was she going to do because you had actually showed up.”

“That…is actually a really beautiful thought.”

“Happens sometimes with me,” she said with a sly smile. “All unnecessary beautiful thoughts aside, there was something between you from the beginning, and I’m so glad that the timing was finally right.” She turned toward Union Station and went to the passenger pick-up and drop-off area, which was located on the bus deck. “Fuck,” she muttered as traffic slowed to a crawl. “Who the hell are all these people and where are they going?”

“Times Square,” Clarke said, deadpan.

“Hell, no. Tourists fly in for that. And everybody in DC has pretty much done New York City for New Year’s already.”

“Well, the rest of us are going by train. And why the hell do they call this the ‘kiss and ride’?”

“A question I have asked myself for many years. But I’ll gladly kiss you if you want.”

Clarke laughed as Raven steered into the proper area of the parking garage and found a spot to park for a few minutes.

“Thanks again,” Clarke said. She unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. “When in Rome…” she quipped.

“Aww. Save all of that for Lexa,”

“I have plenty for her. Don’t even worry.” She got out of the car and grabbed her backpack and small duffle bag out of the back.

“Got everything?”

“Yep.” She shut the door then went around to the driver’s side. Raven opened her window. “Happy New Year to you and Anya.”

“And to you and Lexa. We’ll see you on Sunday. Unless something comes up and you decide to stay another night.” She raised her eyebrows up and down.

Clarke shrugged and smiled, but the thought had occurred to her, too. She’d wait and see what Lexa had to do. She put her backpack on. “Love you, Reyes.”

“Love you back, Griff. And I have so many happy feels for you and Lexa right now that I don’t think it’s measurable.”

“You’re a scientist. You’ll figure it out. Now go spend New Year’s with your woman.”

“You, too.” She flashed her a grin and closed her window. Clarke waited for her to pull back into the line of traffic before she went inside and went to the Amtrak area to check in. Fifteen minutes to boarding. She stood in the waiting area with all the other people who decided going to New York City on New Year’s Eve was a good idea.

Some probably lived there and were just on their way home, but there were a few who looked stressed while a few others seemed to be in a party mood.

And yes, they were actually boarding on time. And now she just had to monitor to see where Lexa was going to be when she got to New York. If she was done at the bar, she’d be on her way home. Or she might actually decide to go out to dinner with her colleagues. She had a feeling she wouldn’t, and would head home and order in, since Lexa was kind of a homebody after a week at work, and especially tonight, which could get super crazy.

Fuck, her feels at thinking about Lexa in her sweats and tee with a big mug of hot chocolate. That was definitely on the menu.

She walked to the platform and opted to sit in one of the cars near the front. It was about halfway full, but she got a seat on her own. After she stashed her duffle in the rack overhead she put her earbuds in and listened to music while she stared out the window, thinking about Lexa (because of course she was). Right now, she was probably still in that meeting she said she had in their last text messages after Clarke’s interview, which had gone really well.

An announcement aired various train-related things and then they were moving and Clarke settled in and watched out the window. There was something meditative about traveling by train, and it was less stressful than air travel. Plus, you could get up and move around, which was nice on longer trips. She took her art tablet out and called up some sketches she was working on for new pieces but after about fifteen minutes she put them away and started sketching something else.

Again with the damn tower, in the muted background. But standing in the foreground, a warrior. Clarke’s hand moved like it was possessed as she sketched in more details. Black trousers, black boots, and a long black coat. She – definitely a woman – held two swords that looked a bit like ninja blades, maybe.

Clarke sketched her hair. Long, with a few intricate braids interwoven throughout. She filled it in a little. Dark, but she wasn’t sure what shade yet, so she worked on the warrior’s facial details. A few minutes later she realized that the warrior bore a striking resemblance to Lexa and she smiled. Even her creative subconscious was all about Lexa.

A text message interrupted her music and her smile widened when she saw who it was from.

_Finally done with one mtg, but have another in 15 mins. wtf [eyeroll emoji]_

She checked her phone clock. Almost four. _But then you’ll go have a drink, future DC Commander [lol emoji]_. And holy shit, that was it. She stared at the warrior. The Commander. That was fucking hot. Commander Lexa. Oh, yes. This was going to be fun.

_I’m kinda liking that. lol_

_Same. So will you plz be careful tonite?_ She waited while Lexa replied.

_Yes. Planning an early one. Maybe Facetime when I get home?_

She was about to say hell, yes when another text from her came in.

_Wait-what time are you going to the pub?_

Oh, shit. She had mentioned she might be doing that. _Not sure yet. Text me when you leave bar. I want to FT before [heart eyes emoji]_. She bit her lip as she grinned, because she’d be seeing her in person.

Lexa sent a few heart emojis back and Clarke almost took a selfie of herself to send, but caught herself. It might give away her location and she was trying to stealth this trip. She turned her music back on and continued working on the Commander—the title had already stuck—and after a while, she stopped, pleased with the image. Especially with the tower in the background.

The Commander needed something, though. Clarke pondered the sketch for a while, then outlined her eyes in black, and created what looked like a painted-on mask. She experimented with it for a while, and decided to extend the mask along the sides of her head to her hairline. Then she drew one long line down from the painted band on the side of her face visible to the viewer, on her jaw. Like the paint had run. She drew another line like that in front of the first, but made it shorter. And then a third, shorter line in front of the second, so she had three vertical parallel lines on her cheek that had originated at her mask.

Like symbolic tears, maybe. Like she had a ton of responsibility and had to bear the weight of other people’s pain as well as her own.

But she was also a major badass. She would have to be, to carry that weight and still be a leader. And underneath her armor both external and internal, she was loyal to those who earned her respect, but also gentle with those who needed her help.

Clarke smiled. The Commander was basically Lexa with warrior training. Although, Lexa was a warrior already. Just trained in different weaponry, and fuck, that was also a really sexy thought.

The train made a stop and her car started filling up and she wondered if the people who got on were going to New York to do the whole New Year’s thing and end up eventually in Times Square, freezing their asses off. She turned her music up a little and did some color work on her Commander sketch. The warrior needed something else, but she wasn’t sure what.

A text distracted her.

_Done w/ mtg. jfc. Going to bar._

Another couple of message came in a few seconds later.

_I really miss you._

_And I wish we could make New Year’s our bitch, too._

Okay, she might be even more in love with her. She typed out a reply. _I just want to be with you tonite. Dinner at your place. Glass of wine. Dumb movie. And whatever else. [wink emoji] as long as it’s with you._ She sent it, fighting an urge to tell her she’d see her in a bit. Lexa’s reply came soon after.

_I cannot wait to be able to do that on a regular basis. Gotta go. Talk soon. [kiss emoji]_

Oh, they’d do much more than talk. Clarke glanced at the window, but only saw her reflection since it was already dark outside and the interior lights had brightened and she checked the time on her phone—almost five—and plugged her phone into the outlet provided on the back of the train seat in front of her, like on airplanes. After a few more minutes, she closed the Commander sketch and opened one of the commission preparation sketches, feeling inspired.

She worked for a while, listening to music, really liking how the scene took shape. This was definitely the way she wanted to go on this particular work.

The train slowed then stopped again and Clarke looked out the window, pressing close to it so she could see the people standing on the platform, bundled in a variety of winter wear. A few people in her car disembarked and a couple others got on and Clarke checked the time again.

Just after five-thirty, which put her in New York in about thirty minutes and then it would be another thirty minutes or more, depending on a variety of factors (including Times Square crowds) to take the subway to Lexa’s neighborhood. The train started moving again and she got a text, this one from Raven.

_Are you there yet? [devil horns emoji]_

_No. Half-hour to Penn. Will text when I get there, Mom2._ She saved the work she had been doing on her tablet and put it away.

_Ugh. Living vicariously thru u_

_Is Anya not home yet?_

Raven was working up a reply when another text came in, this one from Lexa.

 _This martini is good, but I’d much prefer a Clarke-tastic_. She had added the whiskey tumbler emoji and Clarke grinned.

 _I was thinking about a Lexa-licious_. She put her ear buds away, too. _text me when you leave_

She answered with a single heart and Clarke loved how an understatement like that in a fucking emoji from her could convey so much.

Raven responded in the other text thread with _not yet. late mtg. [tear emoji]_

_well, you have me to text with until she’s back_

_how do you feel?_ Raven responded. _are you losing your shit yet?_

She laughed. _so fucking excited_.

_where is she rn_

_still at bar w/ work friends._

_and soon she’ll be making New Year’s her bitch, too_

Clarke stared at the text then wrote back, _omg get out of our heads!!!!!_

Raven responded with a string of question marks.

_she said that earlier, that she wished she could do that_

_lol O says we’re all in each other’s heads_ , Raven texted back. _guess she’s right_

Clarke sent a scared emoji back. Raven didn’t respond right away, so she leaned back and closed her eyes, listening to the murmur of voices from the front of the car, thinking about Lexa and the first New Year they had celebrated, a few months after they had met. A bunch of people had ended up at Clarke and Raven’s where they played board and card games then at midnight they all ran outside into the snow left over from Christmas and made snow angels.

The party wound down after that, until Lexa and Octavia were the last to leave and they ended up with Raven in the kitchen singing pop songs from the 90s for a few minutes, using kitchen utensils as fake microphones. Clarke laughed so hard her stomach hurt. Lexa had hugged her at the door before she left, which wasn’t uncommon between them, but it caused a weird little pang in her chest when she pulled away and Clarke wanted to kiss her but she shoved it to the back of her mind, like she’d been doing since she met her.

The Spice Girls’ “Wannabe” had lingered in her head for days after that, though.

 _Anya’s home!_ Raven texted just as the initial announcement for Penn Station sounded.

She texted a happy face back then added, _about ten minutes from Penn. will text when I get to L’s_

Raven responded with a heart eyes emoji and Clarke smiled then put her phone charger away and decided to use the bathroom since she wasn’t sure when she’d get to Lexa’s or when Lexa would arrive, either. She might have to wait in the lobby of her apartment building—not the scenario she wanted, but if that’s how it worked out, it would have to do. She took her things with her to the next car to the closest toilet then returned to her seat and got her coat and scarf on. Her hat and gloves she’d save for the walk from the subway station to Lexa’s apartment building.

Others in the car were also preparing to disembark and she checked the time on her phone again. Almost ten after six. With luck, she’d be at Lexa’s around seven. She chewed her lip, calculating. Lexa was at a bar near her office, so her route home hadn’t changed and it involved about twenty minutes on the subway then a few minutes’ walk. So if she left the bar in the next thirty minutes, she’d get home before Clarke got there, which she preferred.

God, all these logistics, planning a surprise visit.

She smiled. So worth it.

The train slowed as it entered Penn Station and the car was full of movement as people positioned themselves near the doors, some talking. Clarke overheard a couple of guys chatting about Times Square and she figured they might have decided to do New Year’s with the thousands of other people who braved the cold and whatever other weather. Crowds exhausted her, and she was so glad Lexa was the same way.

A few moments later the train stopped and the doors opened and Clarke moved with the flow of travelers to the platform and then toward the main station, which was an underground city all its own, with shops and restaurants and a constant stream of pedestrians. She went to get in line for a subway card and when she had finished and stepped aside, she got a text message.

_On my way home. Will let you know when I get there._

_Did u eat dinner?_ Clarke texted back. _Or drink it? lol. Please tell me ur going to eat something legit._

Lexa responded almost immediately. S _hared potstickers at bar, but I’ll make lasagna at home. Your mom’s at xmas kinda made me want that tonight, too. [smile emoji]_

Perfect. Clarke grinned and bit her lower lip. _I really want to be there helping you with that._

 _BIG same_ , she texted back. _TTY in a bit?_

 _Yes [kiss emoji]_. Clarke put her phone away and hurried to the subway platforms so she could catch the train she needed. Good thing it wasn’t that long a ride, because the platform was packed, and so was the train. Rush hour on New Year’s Eve. Good fucking God.

She ended up standing on the train, so she took her backpack off and held it by its handle to give people more room behind her. Her duffle wasn’t that big, so she shifted it to her front and leaned into the pole, resigned to this situation, since she would eventually be where she needed to go.

A guy bumped into her as the train jerked and she tensed but he offered an apology and continued looking at his phone. Most people bore the commute this time of day stoically, fortunately, and while she waited for her stop, she got an idea for a painting.

She didn’t often do urbanscapes that focused on people, but it might be fun to do a subway platform. Maybe a series, from platform to the train to the stopping point.

Or maybe a view of a present-day subway platform and train and then a post-apocalyptic view of the same platform. That was intriguing. She visualized it, and the color schemes she would use for both. The train jerked again and she held on to the pole.

They were delayed a bit between stations, and her impatience increased but she tried to entertain herself through people-watching, which was always fun in a city.

Finally the train arrived at the stop she needed and she made her way to the doors, bumping against people who tried to get out of the way for the people leaving. Once on the platform, she put her backpack on and put her hat and gloves on then went through the turnstile and on up the steps to the cold New York night, but she didn’t care because she’d be at Lexa’s building really freaking soon.

She needed to make a quick stop first, so she checked her phone for nearby liquor stores and found one about a block away. Halfway to Lexa’s apartment building from there, bottle of wine in hand, she got a text and she stopped to check it.

 _Home. Let me know when you can talk_ , Lexa said.

Jesus, the timing on this whole thing could not have been more perfect. _Give me about 20 mins_

_Just text when you’re ready [heart emoji]_

“Yes,” Clarke said under her breath as she continued walking. She passed lots of people, and a festive vibe hovered in the clear, cold night, carried by the laughs and shouts in the winter breeze. God, she could not wait to see Lexa.

And finally, there was her building. Time to come up with something fun and flirty to say when she asked her to buzz her in—oh, she could text first and say she was ready to talk. She quickened her pace and got to the entrance just behind a woman loaded down with grocery bags, who was trying to get her key into the lock.

Clearly, the gods were smiling upon her tonight to offer her the perfect opportunity for maximum surprise.

The woman got the door unlocked and Clarke held it open for her.

“Thanks,” she said with a wan smile.

“Sure.” Clarke stepped into the lobby with her and made sure the door closed behind them before she followed her to the elevators. This was an older building, probably built in the 30s or 40s, and it retained some structural art deco touches, like the white honeycomb floor tiles and the cornices and light fixtures. The elevators had unfortunately been re-done, and their doors were standard flat gray, though the frame around each was an echo from the past.

“Floor?” Clarke asked when they got on.

“Seven.”

She pressed that and four and they stood in that peculiar silence that strangers in cities share when in spaces like this. The elevator stopped at four. “Happy New Year,” Clarke said as she stepped off and the woman looked at her, surprised.

“You too,” she said as the doors closed, leaving Clarke alone in the hallway, but only for a moment as one of the apartment doors opened and a young-ish guy emerged who looked a lot like Drake, Clarke decided as she approached him on her way to Lexa’s apartment. He nodded at her as she passed and she nodded back, thinking that this was New York and hell, he might actually be Drake, visiting a friend or something.

She almost laughed out loud at that as she stopped in front of Lexa’s door, dark wood like the others, numbers just below the peephole. She looped the plastic bag that held the wine over her wrist and took her gloves off and shoved them into her coat pockets.

 _Ready to talk_ , she texted Lexa, then fumbled to turn her ringer off so as not to tip Lexa off. Her phone vibrated a few seconds later.

_[happy face emoji] want to watch me make dinner?_

_YES._ Jesus, this was too good.

_Hold on…going to the kitchen. Where are you?_

Clarke stared at her phone. Whoever wrote this romcom scripted it perfectly. _open your door_ , she responded. And then she stood perfectly still, listening.

Faint music emanated from within and then she heard footsteps moving quickly inside the apartment and Lexa saying, “what the hell” before the sound of the lock and deadbolt…the door opened with a jerk and Lexa stared at her and how could anybody look so good in ripped jeans and a faded sweatshirt? “Oh, my God,” she said softly.

Clarke grinned. “Hi. So I really wanted to watch you make dinner—”

Lexa grabbed the front of her coat and pulled her into a kiss and fuck she felt it from her lips all the way to her feet and she didn’t even care that they were basically making out in the doorway.

“This is for real, right?” Lexa said after a few more kisses. “I didn’t fall asleep on my couch or something—this is really happening and you’re really here, right?”

Clarke kissed her again. “How’s that for proof?”

She smiled and pulled away. “Amazing. And oh, my God. I’m sucking as a hostess right now. Please come in and put your stuff down. So we can do more of that other stuff, obviously.”

“Good idea.” She barely managed to set her things down before they did do more of that, and then Clarke hugged her. “I missed you,” she said softly against Lexa’s neck. “And you don’t suck as a hostess.”

She laughed softly and held her tighter and even though Clarke hadn’t taken her coat off yet, it still felt so goddamn good.

“In fact, this is probably the best hostessing ever,” Clarke said and she kissed her on the cheek.

“I missed you, too. So much that I almost went to Polis today.”

“Well, _that_ would’ve been awkward.”

“I would have gotten right back on the train to see you in New York. And I would have called the building supervisor and told him to let you into my apartment.”

“See? You don’t suck as a hostess.” She kissed her before she could respond. “But I am really glad that you couldn’t get to Polis tonight.”

“Same. All the meetings I had intervened. I was irritated about it.”

“I know. I could tell.” She brushed a few strands of hair out of Lexa’s face. “But it all worked out.”

“Did it ever.” She let go of her. “Okay. So…fuck, I’m so glad to see you.” She hugged her again and Clarke grinned and held on to her for a bit. “Okay, how about you get comfortable?” She picked up Clarke’s duffle and backpack and Clarke automatically took her boots off and left them on the rug by the door, next to a couple pairs of Lexa’s shoes. She hung her coat on one of the hooks near the door then followed Lexa across the wooden floors decorated with area rugs.

Like a lot of apartments in New York, Lexa’s was small, but she used space in interesting and effective ways, with cool shelving and furniture that included understorage, like her TV stand, which had several drawers. This was a small two-bedroom, and she used the spare bedroom as an office and for a bit more storage, though she had a couch in it that could pull out into a futon.

She also tended to keep her space streamlined and organized, not only because there wasn’t much of it to fill, but also because that was just the way she was. She had always been a minimalist, and Clarke wondered if that was because she had shared space with Anya growing up or if it was a quirk she would have developed regardless of her background.

Even with that trait, Lexa’s spaces were always warm and welcoming through their color schemes and furniture types, which were a combination of earth tones and shades punctuated with brighter primary colors. She liked a weathered look on her furnishings, but it never came across as the heavy, overwhelming rustic stuff that Clarke shied away from. Rather, it conveyed well-taken care of. Comfortable and safe.

Like how it felt to be around her.

Lexa put Clarke’s backpack in her office and she was about to take her duffle to her bedroom when Clarke stopped her.

“You’ve started packing?” She gestured at the boxes already stacked against the far wall, and Lexa’s office did look a lot more bare than the last time she had seen it.

“Yeah. Figured if I do it that way, and get a bit done every day, it won’t be as big a shitshow when I’m ready to go.” She took Clarke’s duffle to her bedroom.

“What’s your schedule?” Clarke asked as she followed, because this felt a lot bigger than just a relocation for a job. Seeing the boxes made that point really clear and she was both excited and nervous.

“I’m getting one of those pod things. Talked to them yesterday. I’ll be loading it February twentieth,” she said as she put Clarke’s duffle on a wooden luggage stand that she got out of the closet and set up. Nobody else she knew had one of those, and Clarke smiled, then realized what she had said.

“The twentieth?”

“Yeah.”

“So are _you_ coming then, too?”

“No, I’m here until the twenty-fifth, finishing some stuff up.” She grinned. “So I’m trying to get everything packed before then.”

Clarke took her hand. “Can I help?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve got this.”

“Do you want to put some of your stuff in my garage?”

“It’ll fit in the pod, but thanks.”

“What about movers?”

“Lined up.” She pulled Clarke with her to the kitchen. “Want wine? I opened a bottle.”

“Yes. Let me get the bottle I brought. Because I have a feeling we may open that one this weekend, too.”

“I fully support that,” Lexa said as she poured wine into a glass.

Clarke retrieved the other bottle from the stand near the front door where Lexa kept a basket for keys and her wallet and whatever else she needed before she left for the day and it was like Clarke was really seeing these things for the first time, all the little quirks she had in terms of where she put things and how she ran her own household and she stood, staring at the basket.

She wanted to see that every day. And as she glanced around the living room, she wanted to see these things every day, too. Everything in this apartment, everything associated with Lexa, she wanted to see every day.

“Are you okay with meat in the lasagna?” Lexa asked from the kitchen doorway and Clarke jerked her attention to her.

“Definitely.”

She looked at her, puzzled. “All good?” she asked as Clarke approached.

“Yep. Just…thinking.” She cupped her face with her free hand and kissed her. Every fucking day, she wanted to see her and the things in her life, and that was a big thought, with bigger feelings, and she wasn’t sure where it came from. Or maybe it had always been there and finally, it could roam around her head because possibility had become reality.

Lexa took the bottle from her and put it in a wine rack designed to stand in a corner.

“I want to help you with this move,” Clarke said as she washed her hands.

“And I appreciate that, but there’s not really anything logistically you can do,” Lexa said. She handed Clarke the glass of wine she had just poured and washed her hands again. A big pot of water stood on the stove and Lexa turned the burner up under that. Clarke took a sip of wine, set it down, and got the package of ground Italian sausage out of the fridge, along with a container of ricotta and a bag of fresh spinach. Lexa had already put spices on the small rolling island she kept in the kitchen, along with a jar of organic marinara.

“Did not have time to make sauce,” she said, apologetic.

“And that is totally fine. When you’re closer, we’ll experiment with sauce.” She got a cutting board out, grabbed a knife from the magnetic holder on the wall, and started chopping the few cloves of garlic that had been next to the spices. Lexa put the meat into a frying pan and broke it up with a spatula.

“There’s a plate with some olives and cheese in the fridge for munchies. Bottom shelf.”

Clarke went to get it because she was a little hungry and that would help. She ate a piece of cheese and a couple of olives then broke a piece of cheese in half and fed one piece to Lexa while she ate the other.

“What about when you’re in Polis in a couple of weeks?” She went back to work on the garlic. “I can drive you back up and bring some stuff down.”

Lexa looked over from the stove. “Clarke, it’s okay. I’ve got this. If I need help, I’ll ask.”

“Are you sure? Because I know how you are about that.”

“Okay, fine. I _am_ weird about asking my friends for help.”

Clarke looked at her and cocked an eyebrow.

“And…asking people who are more than that for help.”

She raised the other eyebrow and smirked. “People who are more than friends? How many more of those are there in your life?”

Lexa rolled her eyes and air-kissed her.

“Point being, Woods, I know how you are. So if you need me to make calls or arrangements for you with regard to this move, you’d better fucking tell me.”

She set the knife down and went to wash her hands again, this time using the small stainless steel oval, shaped like a bar of soap, to get the garlic smell off her skin.

“Okay. But I’m serious. Right now, everything’s pretty much handled. Pod lined up, I’ll have this place packed up by then, and work’s actually paying for this.”

“Nice.” She dried her hands and opened the package of lasagna noodles, loving how the two of them worked so well together in a kitchen.

“Also, weren’t you supposed to _watch_ me make dinner?” Lexa teased as she got the block of parmesan out of the fridge and set it on the counter.

“I have more fun participating. Although don’t think I don’t find it incredibly sexy to watch you.” She smirked again and sipped her wine.

“Good. Because I really enjoy it when you participate. Though watching can definitely be fun, too.”

“Are we talking about cooking or…?”

She smirked back and Clarke set her wine down and pulled her into a kiss.

“I can’t get enough of you,” she said after a few more. “So here I am.”

“And I’m so fucking glad.” She caressed Clarke’s cheek, her touch gentle but also arousing. “What a fucking amazing surprise. Thank you.” She kissed her forehead. “Also, I get it.”

“What?”

“You want to help with this move because it means more than just a move and because this—” she motioned at her then at herself, “is much more important than just asking a bunch of friends to bring a truck and help you move.”

She sighed and leaned her forehead against Lexa’s. “I’m sorry. Was I getting weird?”

“No more than usual,” she said with a smile. “I just caught a vibe.” She stroked her cheek, another gentle but completely arousing sensation. “I’d feel the same way, if things were reversed. I’d want to help, too.”

“I feel like this is important, and I want to help.”

“I know.” She gave her a kiss, soft and gentle. “But really, I’ve got this. And I promise, if I think there’s something you can do in this process besides talk me down from my stress ledges and help me not freak out, I’ll tell you.”

Clarke smiled. “Swear?”

“Pinky swear.” She held up her hand and Clarke hooked her little finger with Lexa’s.

“It does feel like it means more than just a relocation.” She pulled her hand free and put her arms around Lexa’s neck.  
“Because it is.” She held her closer. “When I first put in for it, it was because I wanted to go home, but I wasn’t being totally honest with myself. It was also to be closer to you. And I’m not a dumbass. I didn’t think you’d drop everything or even _anything_ for me. That’s not what I expected. You were doing your own thing, and there was absolutely no guarantee that anything would have happened between us.” She smiled. “But I wanted to be closer to you. No matter what happened. I just wanted to be in your orbit, if possible.”

“I’ve always thought it would be really cool if you moved back to the Polis area. You never seemed New York to me, so that made the most sense, that you would come home.”

She laughed. “I’m not a New York kind of woman?”

“No. I mean, you’ve made it work, but it’s not you. I know you have friends and a life here, but…”

“You’re right. It’s not me.” She kissed her again. “But I feel like me when I’m around you. So if you were here, I’d be okay. But you are definitely not New York.”

“If that’s what it took to be with you, I’d make New York work.”

Lexa’s eyes widened, her expression filled with hope, surprise, and relief.

“And speaking of making things work, the water’s ready.” She grinned, glad to segue from that rather intense statement she’d just made, pecked her on the cheek, grabbed the bag of spinach, and dumped it into the pot. She set the timer on the nearby microwave for two minutes.

“I kinda love how you know all my shortcuts.”

“Two ingredients, one pot. Saves dish-washing,” she said, like she was reciting something.  
Lexa laughed. “Indra taught me that.”

“And we’ve been cooking together a while, so I pick up on things.” She flashed her a sultry little smile.

“But before, I couldn’t do things like this.” Lexa leaned over, pushed her hair out of the way, and brushed a kiss across her skin just behind her ear and okay, that made a few things tingle.

“Except you probably could have.”

“And maybe we wouldn’t be here now as a result of that.” She kissed her again. “Things happened the way they were supposed to.” She turned the heat on the frying pan’s burner down before she added the jar of sauce. Then she turned the oven on and got a mixing bowl off the baker’s rack she used for shelving and started working on the ricotta filling at the counter.

Clarke removed the spinach from the water with a handheld strainer when the timer went off and transferred it to a colander she took from a hook on the wall near the rack. Once she had the spinach out, she put the noodles in in the water and set the timer again for ten minutes.

Lexa handed her a potato ricer and Clarke gave her a look. “I always find it funny that you have one of these.”

“What? They’re great for mashed potatoes _and_ drying spinach.”

“I know. It’s just…funny, this secret gourmet side you have.”

She quirked an eyebrow and fuck, that was hot. “I have many layers,” Lexa said as she added the garlic Clarke had chopped to the bowl and then fresh basil.

“Are you saying I need to do some more exploration to uncover them?”

“Definitely.”

“Count on it, Woods.”

“I am.” She picked up her wine and sipped, regarding Clarke with an expression that had her thinking about exploring what was under her layers of clothing.

She took a drink of her own wine and checked the noodles then used the potato ricer to squeeze the spinach dry, singing along to the song playing over the kitchen speaker. Lexa joined her on the chorus and they both laughed and fuck, how was it possible to fall even more for her over something like that?  
She didn’t know, but she damn sure knew that it was happening. Right here in the kitchen. She glanced over at her and watched as she stirred spices into the bowl. How many times in the past had she done this? Too many to count, each time a wish, and now here she was.

Lexa looked up at her and smiled. “Yes?”

“Just…looking.”

“And I love that you do.”

“I love that I can and not worry that you’ll see me thinking certain thoughts about you.”

“Don’t ever worry about that. Because I have the same ones.” She raised her eyebrows up and down and Clarke laughed, checked the noodles, then finished with the spinach so Lexa could add it to the ricotta mixture.

The timer went off and Clarke turned the burner off under the water and carefully extracted the noodles and put them in the colander she had used for the spinach, making sure they were al dente. Lexa had finished grating parmesan into the ricotta mixture and she set a glass baking dish on the island.

“Let’s do this,” Clarke said, and she brought the colander to the island and set it on a paper towel.

Lexa took a drink of wine and layered the bottom of the dish with noodles, then with the meat and sauce. Clarke added the ricotta mixture over that and Lexa put another layer of noodles on and they repeated the fillings until they had filled the dish, the uppermost layer the last of the noodles.

“Boom,” Lexa said. “Team Clexa lasagna.” She gestured at the dish.

Clarke laughed. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to put that on a T-shirt.”

“Raven would buy it. And one for everybody in Polis crew,” she said as she put the dish in the oven and set the microwave timer for 45 minutes.

“I’m quite happy with a Clexa cocktail, thank you.”

“We should check in on that, find out if they’ve figured it out.”

“I just hope it doesn’t involve shots.”  
Lexa laughed and started cleaning up. Clarke helped, and they finished quickly because they had a rhythm together and again, Clarke wanted to do this every fucking day.

“I really love cooking with you,” Lexa said, grabbing her thought because that’s how in synch they were. “And I’m really excited that I’ll be able to do it way more often.”

“We can learn the new kitchen together.” She poured more wine into each of their glasses.

“Yeah.” She smiled. “Fuck, I love thinking about that.”

Clarke touched her glass to Lexa’s. “To the new kitchen.”

“To you and this epic surprise.” She grinned. “And to making New Year’s our bitch, too.”

“And to us,” Clarke said softly and they stared at each other for a few moments until Lexa leaned in, slow, and kissed her, just as slow, and it was ultra-sexy and caring and fuck, she was melting.

Lexa pulled back just as slowly. “We have to finish the toast,” she said, a smile accentuating the delicious curve of her lips. “To all of that we just said.” She took a sip and Clarke did the same. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she added, and then they were kissing again, and somehow they managed to put their glasses down and God, Lexa’s hands were on her hips then back and oh, yes, she moved them under her sweater. And oh, God, her lips and tongue—all the years she’d gone without Lexa’s mouth against hers like this was so worth the payoff.

Lexa pulled Clarke’s tee out of her jeans and her fingertips brushed her skin and that was like a wildfire racing up her spine and could she just kiss Lexa forever? Could Lexa just keep her hands on her like that? And could she just touch Lexa like this always, her fingers gliding across her skin under her shirt?  
So many layers between them, intertwining since the day they’d met, and now they could both explore how deep they went and how much deeper they could take them.

All in, she thought beneath the tender onslaught of Lexa’s lips. She was all in.

Maybe she always had been.

And was it possible to get drunk off another person? Because it seemed her senses were filled with Lexa—her scent, the taste of her mouth, the soft sounds she made, the warmth of her skin.

A long beep interrupted and Lexa laughed softly, breath warm on her lips.

“What the hell?” Clarke whispered.

“Um. That’s the timer.”

It didn’t click for a moment and then Clarke’s eyes widened. “Wait—” she turned and looked at the microwave just as it beeped again. “Is that—”

“Yes. Lasagna’s done.”

Clarke stared at her for a second and then they both laughed. “Did we seriously just make out in your kitchen for forty-five minutes?”

“Damn right we did. New Year’s goals, Griffin,” she said with one of her super-sexy smirks. And then she kissed her again but pulled away quickly. “And I’m now going to take the lasagna out of the oven because if I don’t, we’ll be doing this for another forty-five minutes.”

“I don’t see the issue,” Clarke teased as Lexa turned the timer off and opened the oven. “Okay, but on the other hand, that smells fucking delicious.”

“Right? Also, sorry, but the bread will be a little delayed because…reasons.” She shot her a look and another smirk and took the dish out and set it on the stovetop.

“We don’t need to heat it up,” Clarke said as she took the loaf of French bread out of its paper wrapper. She got a knife and sliced it with quick, practiced motions.

“Not sure why, but it’s hot when you do that.”

She smiled. “I’m starting to think that cooking is foreplay for us.”

Lexa didn’t respond, but she was smiling, too, and she handed her a basket with a cloth napkin in it and Clarke filled it with the bread. When she was done,

Lexa got plates out of one of the cabinets then cut into the lasagna with a knife. She put a big helping on each plate and took them to the square table that stood near the kitchen window. Clarke took the bread and plate of cheese and olives over while Lexa brought their wine glasses.

“Sit down,” Lexa said. “And get started. You’re probably hungry.”

“You have no idea,” Clarke shot back and Lexa laughed.

“Kitchen foreplay is going to be a thing with us, isn’t it?”

“It had better be.” Clarke took a paper napkin out of the holder Lexa kept on the table and a fork and knife out of the small upright caddy she kept there, too. She took a bite. “Oh, yeah. Team Clexa lasagna is a win.”

“Like there was any doubt.” She put two glasses of water on the table and sat down to Clarke’s right.

“All the making out probably helped,” she said with an innocent air.

“Well, yeah. That was the most important ingredient.” Lexa took a bite. “Oh, yeah. Definite win on the lasagna front.”

It was. And Clarke really was hungry, so her piece went fast. She got up for another one, then filled Lexa’s plate, too, and they continued eating and talking and Clarke sipped her wine, watching how Lexa’s expressions shifted with the topic, and how the green of her eyes made her think of forests.

Clarke got up to get the nearly empty bottle of wine and she split it between the two of them then set the bottle back on the counter. She kissed Lexa on the cheek then sat down again and Lexa took her hand.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she said again.

“It’s your fault, actually,” Clarke said and she intertwined their fingers.

She raised an eyebrow.

“You sent me roses,” she said softly. “I mean, I think I was already considering coming up, but I knew you had a lot of work to do since you’d taken the days off at Christmas and I didn’t want to disturb you, but the roses…” She kissed the back of Lexa’s hand. “I really needed to spend New Year’s with you.”

Lexa leaned in and kissed her. “I needed it, too. Didn’t think I’d get this lucky, especially since all my damn meetings today interrupted my plan to get to Polis today.”

“Good thing they did.” She squeezed her hand.

“Speaking of…when are you headed back?”

“Sunday afternoon. I didn’t want to cut into your work week and I figured you’d need some down time Sunday evening. That whole lawyer thing you have going on and all.” But she was still leaving her options open in that regard, and she knew Lexa was, too.

She shrugged and offered one of her sexy half-smiled. “But if you want to stay longer, I wouldn’t say no.”

“I know you wouldn’t. But I’m being the adult right now, because you have things to do, like clients to save and cases to win and apartments to pack up.”

She made a frowny face and sighed, and Clarke chuckled.

“There will, however, be other times when I am totally not going to adult where you’re concerned and I’ll get completely selfish and want to take up as much of your time as I possibly can.”

“And I’ll totally let you.”

“Y’know, we might end up enabling the fuck out of each other.”

“And?”

She laughed. “But it’ll totally be in good ways.” She stood and gently extricated her hand from Lexa’s. “How about a movie?”

Lexa’s eyes lit up. “I would love that.”

“Okay. Let me clean up in here a bit—”

“Nuh-uh. Team effort.” Lexa got up, too. “This is Team Clexa, after all.”

“Goddammit, that’s starting to grow on me.”

“Mmm. Good.” She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and picked up their plates. Clarke helped and twenty minutes later they had the left over lasagna put away, the dishes washed, and Clarke texted Raven, who clearly had been worried since she had sent about ten messages to both her and Lexa.

“I put sweats out for you,” Lexa said, and Clarke looked up from her phone, noticing that Lexa had changed into sweatpants already. “I told Raven that Team Clexa is alive and well, too.”

“Oh, God. That will now become a thing.”

She gave her a wicked little grin. “Exactly.”

Clarke added on to the message she was about to send with _L has been teasing me w/ T Clexa all nite. plz don’t encourage her kthx [lol emoji]_

_luv L’s teasing side…TEAM CLEXA 4 THE WIN_

Clarke showed Raven’s response to Lexa, who laughed.

Raven sent another message. _now go! be w/ your woman! i have spoken! ’night and happy new year_

 _same to you_ , Clarke texted back. “Be right back,” she said and she kissed her because goddamn, she couldn’t stop with that.

Lexa had left a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt on her bed out and Clarke put them on, though she pressed the latter to her face and breathed deeply because she loved being wrapped in something that smelled like Lexa and some day, she wanted to be able to put on one of her sweatshirts whenever she wanted. She went to the bathroom then back to the living room.

“Coffee?” Lexa asked from the kitchen.

“Do you have hot chocolate supplies?” she responded from the doorway.

Lexa turned from the coffee maker, which she hadn’t started yet. “Oh, hell, yes. Let’s do it.”

They made it from scratch, heating cocoa, sugar, and milk and while Clarke stirred it, she was struck, again, at how easy it actually had been, to move from friends to more. She glanced over at Lexa, who was getting mugs out of the cabinet, loving her physical presence, and the currents that flowed between them.

Lexa slid her arms around Clarke’s waist and leaned against her back, her chin on her shoulder as she watched her stir. “That’s the sexiest hot chocolate I’ve ever seen,” she said as she pushed Clarke’s hair aside and tracked her lips down Clarke’s neck and fuck, that made her weak in knees.

“You might be biased.”

“I am _totally_ biased. A complete Clarke-aholic.”

“Oh, my God,” she said with a laugh. “Do not tell Octavia that. She’ll come up with some fucked-up drink with three times the alcohol of normal drinks.”

She chuckled, low, near her ear, and Clarke bit her lip as pleasurable chills zipped down her thighs.

“Woods, I’m trying to stir this and you’re not making it easy.”

“No?” She nuzzled a spot behind Clarke’s ear and holy fuck, _that_ was a new erogenous zone.

“Fuck,” she muttered and Lexa laughed.

“So what movie should we watch?” She tightened her hold around her waist for a moment then released her.

“I wish gay romcoms were a thing.”

“Right?”

“But in lieu of that, we could watch badass women doing badass things.”

“Tomb Raider?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Angelina or Alicia?

“Alicia.”

“Popcorn?”

“Absolutely. That’s kind of one of our things, after all.”

“And we can’t be messing with traditions that work.”

Clarke shot her a grin and continued stirring. A few minutes later, the hot chocolate was done and Clarke poured it into the mugs and took it to the living room, where she set it on the coffee table and loaded _Tomb Raider_ onto the TV. The smell of fresh popcorn wafted through the apartment and she thought about Christmas and about the night they’d finally admitted their feelings and fuck, everything Lexa felt like home.

“Let’s do this,” Lexa said, and she set a big bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and settled onto the couch next to Clarke and it was like the past folded over onto the present, because they laughed, recited movie lines at each other, and shared exclamations like “oh, shit,” and “Mathias is such a douche” and “that’s it, kick his ass” and by the time the credits rolled, Clarke had fallen a little more in love. Maybe she’d been doing that since they had met.

“It’s almost midnight,” Lexa said.

“Shit, what time is it?”

“Quarter ’til.”

Clarke switched the channel to one of the countdowns and the camera panned across the thousands of people crammed into Times Square. “Oh, that guy,” she said, pointing randomly at the screen. “He was on the train with me.”

Lexa laughed and they watched in silence for a while, huddled close. “Almost time,” Lexa said and she got up and went and got their coats and she also picked up Clarke’s boots and brought them to her.

She looked at her, surprised, but started putting her boots on as Lexa went into her bedroom. Clarke stood and put her coat on so when Lexa emerged wearing sneakers, she was ready for whatever Lexa had decided to do.

Lexa put her coat on and took Clarke’s hand and led her to the kitchen. She pushed the table aside and unlocked and raised the window wide enough for her to straddle the sill and slip through to the fire escape.

Clarke followed, and Lexa stood near, to keep her from accidentally smacking her head on the window. Once she was on the fire escape, Lexa closed the window almost all the way, leaving it open a crack to make it easy to open from this side.

“I forgot how great the view is from out here,” Clarke said softly, the night air cold on her face.

“Not bad for a cityscape.” Lexa smiled and they stood together at the railing, looking slightly north, toward the location of Times Square.

“It would make a really cool photo.” She thought about another series of paintings or maybe lithographs of New York, though other cities would be great additions to a series like that.

“You know what else would make a really cool photo?” Lexa held her phone up and pulled Clarke in with her free arm and took a selfie, the city in the background.

“You’d better send that to me, Woods,” Clarke said as she kissed her.

“Already done. Also, thirty seconds to the new year.”

She smiled and hugged her closer. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“So am I.” Lexa smiled and fuck, that combined with the look in her eyes made her weak in all kinds of ways.

“Fifteen seconds,” Lexa said softly, showing the countdown on her phone. At ten seconds left, they both counted down aloud and as they said “one” together, the neighborhood around them erupted in cheers. A distant roar emanated from the area of Times Square and Clarke thought she heard “Auld Lang Syne” playing somewhere but she was too busy kissing Lexa to care.

She pulled away a few minutes later because she wanted to do a whole lot more than just kiss. “I’d say we definitely made New Year’s our bitch.”

“New Year’s Eve, anyway. We now have to make New Year’s Day our bitch.”

“I’m assuming you have some ideas about that.”

“Maybe a few,” she said and she raised an eyebrow. “They require going inside.”

“Sounds like they’re the kind of ideas I might have, too.”

Lexa flashed her another smile and raised the window. “I like how we’re on the same page so much.” She motioned for Clarke to precede her and once they were both in, Lexa closed and locked the window and moved the table back. She took her coat off and Clarke carried it out of the kitchen and hung it up along with hers. She left her boots at the front door while Lexa turned the TV off and took the empty popcorn bowl to the kitchen.

Clarke gave her a quick kiss. “Be right back,” she said and she went to the bathroom. When she finished, she went to the bedroom, already bathed in candlelight.

Lexa was wearing nothing but underwear and a tee and Clarke’s mouth went dry and she physically ached at the sight, and the throbbing between her thighs increased.

“Back in a minute.” Lexa gave her a look that could have melted glaciers before she left and Clarke quickly stripped to her own underwear and tee and slid under the covers, and the sheets smelled like Lexa, which was both really arousing and comforting.

God, she could get used to this, going to bed every night with her. Which meant waking up with her, too, and fuck, that thought gave her all the feels and she remembered one of the times she had stayed over with Lexa after a party, and how she woke up at dawn, arm resting across Lexa’s stomach, her thigh across Lexa’s and she started to move, then stopped because she didn’t want to wake Lexa up and besides, it felt really good.

So she had fallen back asleep and when she woke up again a few hours later, Lexa was still asleep but spooning her and she remembered the press of Lexa’s chest against her back and she knew she shouldn’t feel this way about a friend, but fuck, it was good, waking up in her arms like that.

She looked up when Lexa returned and got into bed and Clarke automatically pulled her close, assuring herself that yes, she was here and yes, this was happening.

“Remember how we always seemed to end up like this when we crashed at each other’s houses back in the day?” Clarke said.

She laughed softly. “That probably should have been a clue.”

Clarke adjusted her position so Lexa was on top and staring into her eyes. “It was. But I didn’t want to admit it.” She kissed her. “And I didn’t want to risk losing you if we started something then. I had a lot of drama shit going on with my mom and various other things, and as much as I might have wanted to go farther with you, I needed you more as a friend, and maybe that’s why I instinctively kept you close in that way but not more than that.”

“I think that’s probably why I did the same with you.” She caressed Clarke’s cheek and even a simple touch like that made her heart beat a little faster. “You always made me feel grounded, even through all kinds of crap, and I didn’t want to mess that up.”

“Glad we changed our minds,” she said with a smile, only too aware of Lexa’s bare thighs against hers.

“We didn’t. We just got to a point in our lives where we were both ready.” She returned her smile with one of her own and Clarke stared at her, caught in the intensity of her gaze.

“And what exactly are you ready for?”

Lexa didn’t respond right away, and Clarke’s breath hitched at her expression. “You,” she said softly and before Clarke could respond she kissed her. “Us,” she added, mouth still against hers, and oh, God, the possibilities that filled her heart.

“There’s a reason I sent you sunset roses.” She half-smiled, maybe a little tentative. “And if what they mean is too much too soon, that’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, and we can slow this down if you’re not comfortable.”

She wanted to cry. All this time, and Lexa had never stopped protecting her, had never stopped making sure she was all right, had always been the one person who understood her, somehow, on levels nobody else did. “It’s not too soon,” she said as she brushed a strand of hair out of Lexa’s face and tucked it behind her ear. “We’ve been getting to this point since we met, and I am all about your sunset roses. I’m all about you and us and this and—” she paused, searching for words. “And I fell for you a long time ago. It’s just taken me this long to recognize it.” She traced Lexa’s jaw with her fingers, and the expression in Lexa’s eyes took her breath away. “The same goes for you, by the way, if that was a little too heavy. We can slow this down if you need to.”

“I—God, I’m so there with you.” She stopped and kissed her and fuck, it escalated quickly and all kinds of heat raced through her bones and Lexa slid one of her hands under her tee and Clarke moaned then somehow managed to stop for a bit.

“So does this mean you don’t need to slow down?” she asked, raising her eyebrows playfully.

“I think we’re at just the right pace,” she said with one of her really sexy smirks and she tugged gently on the waistband of Clarke’s underwear.

“You first.” She pulled at the bottom of Lexa’s tee.

“Fuck, I can’t resist you.”

“Good. Get to it.” She pulled on her shirt again.

Lexa sat up and straddled Clarke’s hips and then, with another smirk, she slowly pulled her shirt off and tossed it aside and her hair cascaded around her bare shoulders and candlelight caressed her chest and Clarke lost all ability to speak.

“C’mon, Griffin,” Lexa said with grin that was almost feral. “It’s New Year’s Day. Let’s make it our bitch.”

“Oh, it’s _on,_ Woods.” She pulled her down and oh, yes, it was.

It was _definitely_ on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg, so sorry about the delay. I was busy trying to get ClexaCon stuff ready and life stuff interfered and I was all stoked to post this during CC, but my laptop broke the Thursday it started, so I had to find a way to do it before I left Vegas. HERE IT IS!
> 
> ANYWAY! YAY they made New Year's their bitch, too! And please, find yourselves a partner who cooks with you in the kitchen. If you don't know how but your partner does, let them teach you (if they don't want to, you need a different partner). And if you know how to cook and your partner doesn't, teach them. Sharing meals is great because you can experiment with new dishes, bond over comfort food, and have conversations. It's even hotter and better when you actually cooked it together.
> 
> Trust me on this. ;)
> 
> And thanks for your patience and thanks for reading.
> 
> And yes, a little Wynonna/Doc hat tip with the "all in." :D


	16. Polis Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa finishes in New York and heads south to Polis. Clarke already has some plans for when she gets there. CLEXA!!!!! lol

So this was it.

Lexa looked around her now empty apartment. It seemed a lot bigger, now that all her stuff was out of it. Even though it was such a small space compared to the house she had rented in Polis, her footsteps echoed when she walked through the rooms, checking for probably the hundredth time to make sure she had gotten everything.

The faint smell of bleach and lavender floor cleaner still lingered though she had finished scrubbing everything down yesterday. The building owner would send in a cleaning team, she knew, but Lexa always left a place cleaner than what she had found when she moved in, and not just because Jarissa had agreed to move in.

She went into the kitchen and checked all the cabinets again and then the fridge and she thought about New Year’s Eve and cooking lasagna with Clarke—fuck, that was almost two months ago. The window was locked, but she checked it anyway then stared out at the city, remembering Clarke’s lips against hers and the night’s chill on her cheeks and hands.

For the thousandth time, she wondered if it was too soon to be thinking about sharing space with Clarke on a more permanent basis. The mid-January trip to Polis had been amazing and then Clarke had come up the first weekend in February and helped pack half her kitchen, which made her smile even now because Clarke had found a way to help with the move after all.

Not surprising, since when Clarke decided to do something, that was pretty much it. They had made sandwiches for dinner that evening, turkey and ham on baguettes. Simple, but God, they were good, and then they sat on the couch surrounded by boxes and drank wine and watched TV. Clarke had snuggled against her and Lexa would do that every night if she could, would be content even with Clarke’s long stretches of painting and solitude when she was creating, as long as she was in the same space.

And how great would it be, for her to have a studio, like a converted garage, where she could go into her art space and do what she needed to do, but still be close? She smiled. Pretty damn great.

Her phone rang with “Bad to the Bone” and she answered. “Hey, cuz. What’s up?”

“A question I called to ask _you_ ,” Anya said. “How are things there?”

“Everything’s clean and pretty much packed. I’m just doing a final inspection and walk-through.”

“From that response, I feel like real estate might actually have been your calling.”

She laughed. “I don’t have the patience to deal with people undecided about wallpaper in a kitchen. For fuck’s sake, people, you can literally get rid of the wallpaper. The house is good. Fucking buy it.”

“Seriously. HGTV needs a show like that. None of this coddling of undecided white people debating which beach house they want as a summer home. I can see it now. Here comes Lexa Woods with her ‘are you fucking kidding me with this whiny-ass issue with the color of the damn paint? You can change the paint. Now go check the plumbing and electrical. _That’s_ the issue’.”

“House Hunters, hardcore edition.”

She laughed. “It wouldn’t take long to get your realtor’s license. Just sayin’.”

“Maybe after I save the world.”

“Put it on your list of things to do. Anyway, just wanted to check in to make sure you’re all good and everything’s under control.”

“Yeah.” She stared out the kitchen window again. “Kinda weird, leaving this space.” Five years she’d been in this apartment, and it held a lot of memories. Like the times Clarke had visited for a weekend or when she needed a place to crash in New York while doing art thing meetings. Funny, how she could associate even this place with Clarke.

“On to bigger and better things. Like a house that’s larger than a shoebox to live in.”

“Hey, now. This apartment is at least _two_ shoeboxes.”

“Oh, my bad. Which leads me into my next interesting statement. You don’t have enough furniture for your new place.”

“I’m not going to worry about that until I get more settled and have some time to see what I might want to put in the house.”

“How about Clarke?”

Her thighs heated under her jeans. “It goes without saying that she’ll be coming over.”

“Nice dodge, cuz. But you know exactly what I meant.”

“Um.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, tone triumphant.

“Whatever. We’ve only been seeing each other a couple of months.”

Pause. “Plus about ten years.”

She cleared her throat. “Did you call to see if I’m ready to drive to Polis or to interrogate me about my personal life?”

“Both. Duh.”

She laughed again. “Yeah, okay. Here’s the short version, which I’ve told you already. I’m way into her, pretty sure she’s into me, and we’re still getting used to being more than friends.” Who was she kidding? She’d bought a ticket to Clarke-ville years ago, but no way was she going to go into further detail about that with Anya.

“Fine, then. But for the record, I approve, and I’m happy for you and I’m really glad you’re going to be living so close to her.”

“Okay, have you been drinking? Because all this warm and fuzzy talk is throwing me off.”

“You’re funny. You know I always have your back. You seem happy, and I like seeing that on you.”

“Well, thank you. How’s Raven?”

She chuckled. “Such a damn lawyer with that deflection. She’s awesome and we would like very much to come to Polis in the next week or so to see your new digs.”

“That would be great. Let me get there and see what I need to do.”

“Definitely. Okay, keep us posted on your whereabouts. And congrats on all the new developments in your life.”

“Thanks. Hi to Raven. Talk soon.”

“Yep. Be safe. Bye.”

Lexa hung up and snapped a photo out the window and posted it to her Instagram with the caption “last time I see this view. On my way to Polis. Wish me luck.” She finished checking the kitchen then went into the bathroom and checked the cabinets and then she checked the bedrooms again and then the living room and okay, she forced herself to stop. She’d checked already. And if anything turned up, the manager or Jarissa would let her know. She took the last few things down to her car, including the folded-up air mattress she’d been sleeping on for the past few days, her sleeping bag and pillow, a bag of used towels, another bag of dirty clothes, and a small piece of rolling luggage with clean clothes, toiletries, and a couple pairs of shoes.

After the last trip, she locked the door to the apartment and put her keys in an envelope with a note she’d prepared and then she stood in the outer hallway for a few moments, thinking about the years she’d spent here and the directions her life had taken.

A text came in and she checked her phone and smiled as she read it.

_hey, you. [heart emoji] how’s it going?_

_Hi! on my way to drop keys off. Then will start driving_ , she texted back.

 _plz be careful. can’t wait to see you_. Another message came in immediately after that one, a selfie of Clarke smiling in that way she reserved for her, in the moments before she kissed her, and oh, God, her heart.

 _Will do. I’ll let you know @ delays besides usual traffic._ She went to the stairs and took them to the second floor, where the manager lived. Her phone notified her of a text message, but she wanted to drop the keys off before she checked. Nobody answered her knock, so she sealed the envelope and dropped it through the slot in the door, which he had installed for circumstances like these.

When she got to her car (a practical but super fun Honda Fit), which was parked in the loading area of the complex with its hazard lights on, she checked the message, another from Clarke.

_doesn’t matter what time you get in. there will be dinner at my house. or wine. popcorn. whatever you want._

She smiled. _does that include you?_

 _always_ , Clarke shot back.

Oh, God. She stared at that one word for a while and fuck, there wasn’t a written language that could adequately express what she felt. _I just fell for you again_ , she texted back. _see you soon_. And then she texted Indra and Gustus to let them know she was leaving New York. She was about to put her phone down when she sent out a group message to Polis crew with two words: _Polis bound!_ and a selfie of herself sitting in the car. She put her phone on the passenger seat and pulled into traffic to keep herself from calling Clarke, which would force her to stay parked in the loading area. Lexa wasn’t a fan of hands-free phone use while driving because traffic stressed her out and she just wanted to get through it. And she just really wanted to get on the road, since it was four or maybe five hours to Polis, depending on traffic.

Getting out of the city was going to be a chore because she had to go through the Holland Tunnel, which was generally slow unless it was late at night. She remembered a text conversation she had with Clarke and Raven about a week ago about which route she would take out of Manhattan and Raven pointed out that it would suck to be in Manhattan in a zombie apocalypse because there weren’t that many ways off the island to the mainland.

Clarke had agreed and the three of them had outlined all the things they could think of that would allow zombies to flourish and spread in New York and that’s what Lexa thought about as she approached the Holland Tunnel, which was definitely a bad idea in Raven’s scenario. All those zombies in a confined space, after all, especially if the tunnels were clogged with vehicles that people had abandoned or, worse, got trapped in and zombified.

The bridges might be a better option because you could at least push or kick a zombie off of it. Or run across the tops of cars or climb up into the suspension and, if you were careful, probably work your way off the bridge eventually. She would present these theories to Clarke and Raven once back in Polis and she smiled because she was just entering the tunnel.

Several texts had been coming in, but she’d check them later. Right now she was dealing with traffic in the tunnel, which had slowed to a crawl. She glanced around at all the cars, and the smooth walls of the tunnel and how little room there was to maneuver in here.

Yep. _Definitely_ not a good place to be in a zombie outbreak. Important findings to share. She turned some music on and settled in for a long, annoying (and hopefully zombie-free) trip through the tunnel. God, she just wanted to be on the interstate already, on the way to Polis.

And Clarke.

She looked at the clock on her dash. Nearly two. If she managed to beat the initial rush out of the city when she got to the interstate, she should hit Polis around six. Fortunately, she didn’t have to go into the office until next week, which gave her the approaching weekend to empty the pod that was sitting in the driveway of her new place, as planned. Clarke and Octavia had made sure of that.

So maybe Saturday afternoon she could get that taken care of, which would give her some time to see how much stuff she had and what else she might want to buy. Her whole apartment would have fit into three-quarters of the downstairs, she estimated, but on the other hand, she didn’t want to go out of control and buy a whole bunch of stuff because—

Fuck.

Because she was hoping that she and Clarke would end up in the same house eventually and maybe they could pick out a few things together.

Her chest filled with warmth at that, at thoughts of choosing furniture with Clarke, and decorations, and figuring out where to put certain things. They’d debate paint colors and textures, though Lexa would defer to Clarke in a lot of that. Besides, Clarke knew Lexa’s style, and she would definitely incorporate it into whatever color scheme they followed.

She loved that she knew Clarke would do that.

But Jesus, she was really getting ahead of herself. She gripped the steering wheel harder. Clarke loved her house, after all. Would she be willing to give it up to move to a bigger place with her? Or was it possible for Lexa to move into Clarke’s space? And was she willing to do that? Clarke’s house was her haven, after all. Bringing someone else into it might mess with the routine she’d established as an artist there. Plus, would they even get along in the same space?

Okay, this was beyond serious future stuff. How about one thing at a time? Like getting to Polis and getting the storage pod unpacked. Whatever was meant to happen, would.

The flow of traffic eased and Lexa sped up a bit and then she was free of the tunnel, headed east on I-78. Soon she’d hit I-95, which would take her south toward DC and already she felt better, like a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying had been lifted. She accelerated a little more and grinned.

She was finally headed home.

###

“What time should we get there on Saturday?” Raven asked.

“Hi to you, too,” Clarke said.

“Oh, sorry. Forgot my phone pleasantries. And how are you, Griff?” Her tone was innocent. “I know you’re totally not thinking about Lexa hurtling down the ninety-five right now—”

“She’d better _not_ be hurtling. I want her in one piece, thank you.”

“Fair point. But seriously, I can totally see her in one of those hot-ass race car uniforms going all Danica Patrick.”

And okay, Clarke suddenly envisioned Lexa stepping out of a race car, taking her helmet off, and shaking her hair out—

“Great image, right?” Raven chortled.

“Stop. I have work to do.”

“Whatever. So what time?”

“Um, noon?” She glanced into the main part of the gallery where Sophia was chatting up an older couple about one of the newer pieces she had out.

“Is that enough time for your morning sexy-times with Lexa?” Raven teased.

“I am not even going to answer that.”

“So that’s a no, not enough time. But you’re going to cut said sexy-times short for me and Anya.” She made kissing noises over the phone.

“I cannot with you,” she said, laughing.

“But you do. And you will.”

“Oh, my God, Reyes. Please remind me why you’re my friend.”

“Because I’m amazingly charming, good-looking, and I will walk through fire for you.”

Clarke laughed. “Fine. Yes. All of those reasons. Anyway, are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, it’s a Saturday and it probably won’t be that warm out.”

“Griff, this is what Polis crew does. And between all of us, we’ll have the pod unpacked and Lexa’s stuff in the house really quickly. Also, Anya talked to Lexa earlier today before she left New York and totally made her think we’d be coming up to Polis in a week or two.”

“Your girlfriend is really good at this subterfuge stuff. Not sure how I should feel about that.”

“You should feel awesome because we can recruit her into all our schemes. So are there other plans besides de-podding Lexa?”

“And that makes it sound like some kind of weird sci fi film.”

Raven laughed. “There are worse things.”

“True. Let’s not discuss them right now. And I’ll have to tell Lexa about the de-podding when she gets here because you know she’ll go over tomorrow and start unpacking.”

“Fuck, you’re right. Damn. Wasted subterfuge.”

“You know that’s how Lexa is. This is one of those times a surprise isn’t going to work.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll still be fun.”

“To your question about other plans, O and Lincoln are going to bring a grill and we’re going to have burgers once we’re done unloading. Lexa’s had the water turned on and she already coordinated with Deb to get the utilities switched over to her name, so there’s heat and electricity over there.”

“Because of course she did. But all of this is the best. Anya and I will bring some beverages.”

“That would be a huge help. Please make sure some are non-alcoholic. We must encourage whatever responsibility we can.”

“Will do. Also, we should all have a slumber party in Lexa’s house. Except for O and Lincoln. They’ll probably want to go to their own house. But for the rest of us…could be fun.”

“Let’s wait and see what Lexa feels like doing. That’s a lot of people using her bathrooms, after all.”

“Oh, yeah. Good point. Afternoon burgers and beers, then. What about plates and plasticware?”

“Got it.”

“Okay. We’ll also throw in some money for the food.”

“Great.”

“Does Lexa know we’re descending on her house this weekend like a friendly plague of locusts?”

“I haven’t said anything, because you know how she gets.”

Raven laughed. “Totally. ‘Don’t worry about me, you guys, I’m fine. I’ll just carry this couch into the house by myself’.”

“Exactly. I’m working on her to be okay with asking for help, but she gets stuck in her head and instead thinks she can do it all herself.” Which sometimes wasn’t a bad thing, but she was worse with people who genuinely cared about her, as if she would somehow drive them away if she asked for anything.

“She’s been like that forever. Anya’s told me stories about her as a kid, trying to be all self-sufficient. Probably baggage from losing her mom.”

“I know.”

“Of course you do. And she’ll come around because you have decreed it.”

Clarke chuckled. “I don’t know about that. Lexa’s pretty stubborn, too.”

“When it comes to you, she’s all heart eyes.”

She smiled. “It’s mutual.”

“Duh. And that’s why she’ll come around and let us help her carry her couch, because of the Clarke effect.”

She rolled her eyes, but the truth was, she liked the idea of having the kind of effect on Lexa that she, in turn, had on her. “Anyway. Noon on Saturday. We’ll be at Lexa’s. We should be able to get the storage pod cleared in a couple of hours and then we can start grilling and we’ll be able to eat around four. And you can crash at my house.”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s why I have a guest room. And if we work fast on Saturday, we can get Lexa’s bed set up and I can stay there.”

Raven laughed. “Ah. I see. This isn’t just about Lexa.”

“Whatever, Reyes. Polis crew did the same thing when you moved in with Anya. We made sure the bed was set up before anything else.”

“Not denying it. And no worries. We’ll take care of setting up Lexa’s bed ASAP,” she teased. “And now I have to go deal with a phone conference. Are you at Arkadia tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I have a meeting with one of the researchers on campus at three. Want to do lunch before?”

“Oh, hell, yes. Text me. I finish with my class at twelve.”

“Awesome And then a couple days after that I get to see you again. Twice in a week. Make sure you keep Lexa from unpacking by herself before Saturday. Gotta go.”

“See you tomorrow and hi to Anya.”

“Yep. Bye,” Raven said before she signed off.

Clarke checked the time. Three-thirty. God, she could not _wait_ for Lexa to get here. She read her last text for about the thousandth time, enjoying the sparks that shot through her torso. Jesus _Christ_ if anybody had told her last summer that by early spring she’d be in this situation with Lexa fucking Woods, she would have told them they had lost their damn mind.

Instead, she herself seemed to have lost her damn mind, in the best way possible.

And fuck, would Lexa just get here already? She sighed, a mixture of impatience and happiness then put her phone in her pocket and went to check on Sophie, who was doing just fine with a few more people who had come in, so she retreated to her office space in the back and looked at the selfie Lexa had sent around to the group just before she left, sitting in her car, and again, Clarke wondered if she might be dreaming.

A text came in from her mom, asking if she had a minute to talk. Clarke called her.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Hi,” Abby said. “Any chance you can have lunch early next week? I know you’re on campus Tuesday.”

“I think that should be okay, if you come to campus. I have to give a talk at two that day. And hello, aren’t you a fancy surgeon who never gets any time off?”

She laughed. “It just so happens I, too, will be on campus—the medical part—giving a talk at ten.”

“Then it’s perfect. Lunch at about noon? I’m teaching at ten-thirty, otherwise I’d come to your talk.”

“I appreciate the thought.” She paused. “So when does Lexa get in today?”

Clarke paced around the storage area. “Maybe around six? Not soon enough.” And she couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Huh. So…this sounds kind of serious,” she said, tone warm. “It seems that you’re doing a little more than just dating.”

She hesitated. Then, “I—yeah. I think it is.” She chewed her lower lip for a moment. “Yeah,” she repeated. “I’m serious about her.” And somehow, saying it to Abby added another layer of validation about the way things were going with Lexa.

“From seeing you two at Christmas, I’m guessing she feels the same way.”

She thought about the text Lexa had sent earlier, about falling for her again. And a flurry of butterflies filled her chest. “Yes.”

“This is wonderful news. I hope things continue as they are, because you seem really happy.”

“I am.” She stopped and stared at the ceiling. “God, she’s amazing. And she makes _me_ feel amazing, like I could do anything.”

Abby chuckled.

“What?”

“You. This. I’m so glad you two finally decided to take the next step. It was a long time coming.”

“As glad as I am that you think so, it might be a little weird that we’re having this conversation about my personal life.” She smiled as she said it.

Abby snorted. “As if you’ve never talked about people you were seeing in your life prior to Lexa.”

“That was different,” she shot back.

“How?”

“Because—” Fuck. How much did she want to say?

“Because she means a lot more than the others?”

“Geez, Mom. That makes me sound like an asshole.” She half-laughed.

“I’m not saying they didn’t mean anything or that you didn’t care about or love them. I’m saying that Lexa gets you on levels they didn’t, and that’s a rare thing, when somebody resonates with you like that. I hope you both hold on to it.”

“Well, right now, that’s the plan.”

“Good to hear. And now I have to go work with some rookie surgeons.”

“They’re lucky to have you as a teacher. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yes. Let me know when Lexa gets in. I like knowing she’s okay, too. Love you.”

“I will. And love you, too. Bye.” She ended the call and stood for a moment, staring at nothing, thinking about what Abby had said, about holding on to something like what she felt with Lexa.

What did that mean? Was she ready to look beyond the present where Lexa was concerned?

She tapped her phone against her chin. Hadn’t she already been doing that? After all, she didn’t want to be with anyone else, and she couldn’t imagine her life without her.

This felt _really_ serious. And what did that entail, anyway? Living together? She did love having Lexa in her space, but Lexa had her own thing going on in that regard, with her somehow endearing uptight minimalism. Would Lexa want to do something like live together?

God, they’d only been officially seeing each other for a couple of months.

Chill the fuck out, she told herself. One thing at a time, and whatever was supposed to happen, would.

“Clarke?”

She jerked her attention to Sophia, standing in the doorway. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“There are a couple of people out here who I’m pretty sure will buy ‘Horizons’ if they meet the artist.” She gave her a conspiratorial smile.

That was one of her bigger pieces. “Artist intervention on the way,” she said with an answering smile as she put her phone into her back pocket. At least this would distract her a bit from thoughts of Lexa.

Who she’d be seeing in about three hours.

And now she was giddy. Again.

But damn, she loved it.

 

###

Lexa hit the outskirts of Polis around six-thirty, only a half-hour past her projected arrival time. She slowed down as she got off the interstate and drove past the strip malls and suburban neighborhoods of this part of town toward the historic district.

A tide of memories accompanied her, many of them full of Clarke and it struck her, again, how interwoven their lives had been during their college years, and how easily they meshed, and how she had never thought of a future without Clarke in it somehow.

All these clues to how deep their connection seemed so obvious now. Anya was right. She had been seeing Clarke for two months plus a bunch of years and there was something immensely comforting and exciting about that.

She slowed down even more as she entered Polis’s historic district and she smiled as she passed Clarke’s gallery, remembering when she first rented it, and how her eyes lit up when she talked about it.

Niylah’s French Pressed used to be their favorite rundown pizza joint, open until two in the morning on weekends, which came in handy on party nights and finals week. Niylah had fixed it up and the vibe was still warm and friendly, but Lexa thought about that pizza place sometimes when she saw it, and about all the times she and Clarke had stopped in on Fridays after classes. Big, delicious slices for three bucks and pitchers of mediocre beer for five.

They had moved away to grad school just after it closed, but Niylah had bought it and turned it into a booming coffee house and already, it figured in Lexa’s memories as another place she and Clarke intercepted, even before the whole Secret Santa mission.

She turned right and drove past Kristen’s, where she and Clarke had made out in Clarke’s car in the driveway the day after they finally admitted their feelings for each other, something high school students generally did and not grown women but Lexa didn’t care and she’d do it again. Every chance she got.

And there was Clarke’s house, the strings of party lights on her porch a kitschy beacon. Plastic flamingoes and fifties-style plastic travel trailers. Kind of silly but they worked and it was so Clarke, this little quirk, and God, she was so in love with her.

Lexa parked in front and turned her music off. Her phone had a bunch of unanswered texts, but she ignored them and called Clarke.

“Hey,” Clarke answered after the second ring. “Where are you?” And Jesus, her voice. Lexa would never get tired of hearing it.

“Outside.”

Pause. “You’re here? Oh, my God.”

She laughed and got out of the car just as Clarke jerked the front door open, framed by interior light, still holding her phone to her ear.

And then she was bounding down the front steps as Lexa walked around the back of the car to meet her.

“Best sight ever,” Clarke said as she practically flung herself into Lexa’s arms and God, she felt good.

“Hi,” Lexa said, holding on like they hadn’t seen each other in months and then Clarke kissed her and it felt like the first time, and there was no way she ever wanted to give this up.

“Okay, I’ll stop for now,” Clarke said as she pulled away. “Because otherwise we’ll be out here all night doing that.”

“Not entirely a bad thing.” Lexa smiled and kissed her again.

“Mmm. But I’d rather we were some place more comfortable. Like my bed, for example.”

“I can support that.”

“I thought you would. So what do we need to do here?” She gestured at Lexa’s car.

She looked at it, still holding on to Clarke, debating a plan of action for the next day or two. “Um…”

“How about this? We’ll unload the stuff you need for the next couple of days and stash it here. You can go by your place tomorrow and get a feel for what you want to do.”

Her place. In Polis. She grinned. Feels. So many feels. “Okay…” her brain was short-circuiting with all the feels.

Clarke laughed. “Overloading your circuits, I see. Let’s get your stuff and then figure out a plan inside. Where there’s dinner.” She gave her another quick kiss. “And you’re probably tired and need some chill-out time.”

Lexa stared at her for a moment.

“What?” Clarke said, her smile warm and teasing.

“Just—you.”

“And you. Here in Polis. I am so excited.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the car. “Is it unlocked?”

“Yes.” Lexa opened the back.

“What do you want to take into the house?”

“Suitcase and duffle bags. The rest can stay for now.”

“Okay.” She grabbed the former and Lexa got the two duffles and Clarke shut the back with her free hand and Lexa followed her to the house. “Go put your stuff in the guest room. I’ll move my car so you can park in the driveway.”

Lexa paused at the base of the steps to the second floor, puzzled.

“I have to teach tomorrow and I need to leave early,” she explained. “So I’ll park behind you in the driveway.”

“I can leave my car on the street.”

“It’s got stuff in it and I’d rather it was in the driveway.” She grabbed her keys from the small set of shelves near the front door and stepped out before Lexa could say anything else and she smiled at Clarke in get-things-done mode and took her bags to the guest room, then her suitcase. Clarke returned just as Lexa was coming down the steps.

“All set,” Clarke said. “Want me to move your car?”

She smiled again. “I’m not _that_ tired.” She gave her a quick kiss then went outside and got into her car and pulled into Clarke’s driveway, almost to the garage. Clarke parked behind her.

“There,” Clarke said. “Now I won’t lie awake worrying about your car parked on the street.”

“Pretty sure that if you’re awake in bed tonight, it won’t be from doing that,” Lexa said and Clarke kissed her and it heated fast and they were making out right there in the driveway and Clarke’s lips and her tongue—Jesus. Lexa slid her hands inside Clarke’s coat.

“Have I told you how fucking sexy you are?” Clarke asked, breath warm against Lexa’s lips.

“Not in a couple of days,” she said with a grin, sparks circulating along her spine.

“Well, here I am telling you again.”

“And here I am appreciating it.”

She stared at her for a few moments. “Yeah. Here you are. And it’s the best.” She brushed a strand of hair out of Lexa’s eyes. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Lexa gathered her close for a hug. “It feels weird not to be near you,” she said softly.

“It totally does.”

And as long as Clarke was pressed close like this, Lexa could stand out there in the late February chill for hours.

“Did you have anything to eat on the way down?” Clarke asked, voice soft.

“Not really. Had some snacks in the car, but that was it.”

“You’re in luck, then,” she said as she pulled back and gave her one of her cute-sweet smirks and started pulling her toward the house.

“You _did_ text me something about dinner.”

“I did. And it’s all true.” She let go of Lexa’s hand to open the door, which she locked behind them then took her shoes off.

Lexa did, too, and followed her into the kitchen, and she thought about how things always seemed to happen between them in kitchens, and her gaze dropped to Clarke’s ass as she got wine glasses out of the cabinet. She was so glad that she didn’t have to hide her feelings anymore.

“If you don’t want wine, I’ve got other stuff,” Clarke said, turning from the cabinets.

“Wine’s great. And it smells really fucking good in here.”

“Thought I’d make a couple of quiches. I had just put them in the oven when you got here.” She took a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and filled their glasses then went to the stove and adjusted the temperature on the oven. “About twenty minutes on those. Want some antipasto stuff? There’s a plate in the fridge if you do.”

Lexa smiled and went to get it. Cheese, olives, and roasted peppers. She set it on the island and Clarke sliced a baguette in half then further sliced one of the halves into several smaller pieces.

“So how was the drive?”

“Fine. The usual traffic, but I made it out of the city before it got worse." She put cheese on a piece of bread and ate it. "I decided the Holland Tunnel would be a very bad place to get caught in a zombie outbreak, per Raven's assessment."

She laughed. “Bumper-to-bumper traffic is a bad place for that no matter where you are.”

Lexa ate an olive. “But in an enclosed space like the tunnel? So much worse. One of the bridges would be better, because you could kick zombies off it and climb up into the rigging.”

Clarke had just taken a drink of wine and she coughed then laughed again. “Oh, my God. I’m so glad you’re thinking about this. Because now I know if we ever have to escape a major urban area, you’ll know exactly where to go. Also, I am now imagining you as a pirate with that mention of climbing into the rigging.” She raised her eyebrows up and down. “It’s a hot image.”

She grinned and ate a piece of cheese. “You into cosplay, Griffin?”

Clarke smirked. “I could be persuaded.”

“Uh-huh. Well. Note to self.” She leaned in and kissed her. “All these years I’ve known you and I’m just now finding out about this little quirk.”

“Not true. You know I love Halloween.” She gently bit Lexa’s lower lip and holy hell, Lexa felt it all the way to her feet.

“But I didn’t know you’d be willing to extend that beyond Halloween.”

She set her wine down and hooked her fingers on the waistband of Lexa’s jeans and pulled her close. “I just might. The pirate thing is pretty hot. Or maybe I just have a thing for you and swords.”

“Oh? Swords?”

“Mmm, yeah.”

And Jesus, Clarke’s lips. She would never get enough of kissing her. “I think you’d also be pretty hot with a sword.”

“So this cosplay thing extends to you, too?” she said, tone low and sexy.

“Where you’re concerned, yes.”

“I like it.” She gave her another quick kiss and took an olive off the plate and studied her. “On a more serious note, are you feeling okay about leaving?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a relief, and when I got through the tunnel, it was…I don’t know. I felt lighter, somehow.” She sipped her wine. “I’m just really, really glad to be here.”

“I’m really glad you are. Oh, hold on. I have to text my mom. She wanted to make sure you got in okay.” She got her phone out and Lexa sipped while she texted, thinking about how easy the family negotiation stuff was between them.

Clarke put her phone back in her pocket and pecked Lexa on the cheek. “Do you want to take a quick shower before dinner?”

“I’m good. Get me caught up on your day.”

So Clarke did, and Lexa felt it again, the realization that she wanted this, wanted to come home as often as she could to Clarke. Maybe a dog. And a kid.

Wait. What?

Clarke checked the quiches, still chatting about the class she had to teach the next day and Lexa stared at her, imagining her as a parent. She was great with kids, she knew, but holy Jesus fuck, did Clarke even _want_ kids? And did she? Lexa took a big swallow of wine. She’d thought about it, and about being the parent her mom never got the chance to be. Thinking back, Clarke had mentioned when she was in art school that she might some day want to be a parent, but it didn’t come up in relation to the other people she’d been with since college.

Lexa decided she’d be okay either way with what Clarke wanted. She herself could step up and be a parent, or not, if they decided not to. And fuck, that was getting _way way_ ahead of everything.

“—lunch with Raven tomorrow.”

She snapped her attention back to the conversation. “Raven? On campus?”

“Yeah. Raven has some stuff to do there so we’re going to meet up.”

“Fun. Tell her hi.”

Clarke hooked her fingers on Lexa’s jeans pocket and pulled her close. “You sure you’re okay? You seemed a little distracted for a second, there.”

She kissed her forehead. “I am way more than okay. Just thinking about how I’m really here, and that I don’t have to go back to New York after seeing you and I’ll get to see you every day. Or at least almost every day.” She paused. “That might have been kind of heavy. But that’s how I feel.”

Clarke smiled and hugged her. “Same here. I fucking love that you’re here. You have no idea.” She kissed her and Lexa fell into the sensation of her lips against hers, and the feel of her tongue, the taste of her mouth, and she never wanted to be without her.

“Damn it,” Clarke whispered against her lips. “Something about you and kitchens…”

“Mmm. Something about _you_ , too.”

Clarke ran her lips along Lexa’s jaw. “I seem to recall us having a conversation about sex in this kitchen not so long ago.”

Lexa turned her head to give her access to her neck. “Is that a hint?”

“Maybe.” She sucked lightly on the skin of her throat and Lexa clenched her teeth, arousal pooling low in her belly and lower than that. “But first, dinner,” she said as she pulled away. “You need to keep your strength up.” Her expression made the throbbing between Lexa’s thighs increase.

“Tease.”

She laughed, low and husky. “And?”

“Just stating the obvious.” She reached for Clarke’s hand and pulled her close again, cupped her face, and kissed her, a demand and a promise. She finished with a gentle bite on Clarke’s lower lip before she stepped away with a smile. “I’ll set the table,” she said, smirking at Clarke’s expression.

“Jesus, Woods,” she finally managed when Lexa got plates out of the cabinet.

“Hmm?”

“You know damn well what’s on my mind.”

She flashed her another smirk. “Yep. Want something besides wine to drink?”

“Oh, _now_ who’s being a tease?”

Lexa shrugged, smirk now a grin. “Water good?”

“What was the question? Because this incredibly gorgeous and sexy woman made me forget what I was talking about.”

“Flattery might get you everywhere.” Lexa retrieved glasses from another cabinet. “What else do you want to drink?”

She raked her with her gaze and Lexa raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “Water,” Clarke said. “For now.”

Lexa arched her eyebrow again and filled the glasses from the filter pitcher in the fridge then took them to the table, enjoying the heat between them. She loved the buildup and the way they were so in sync with each other’s moods, loved that they had shared this energy even before they had announced their feelings. She went back into the kitchen and got the plates and silverware and took those to the table and then brought their wine glasses out, too.

Clarke joined her, wearing an oven mitt and carrying one of the quiches in that hand and a wooden trivet and a metal cake cutter in the other. She set the quiche on the trivet and picked up one of the plates and used the cake cutter to remove a piece and set it on the plate.

“Sit down,” she said and she handed Lexa the plate.

She did and waited for Clarke to serve herself and sit down, too.

Clarke picked up her wine. “Here’s to you, back in Polis.”

“And here’s to our first dinner on that occasion.” Lexa tapped her glass against Clarke’s and she sipped, watching Clarke’s eyes, and her lips as she, too, drank.

“I can tell you’re going to be a very bad influence on me,” Clarke said. “In all the best ways.”

She laughed and took a bite of quiche. “Oh, this is so good.”

“I’ve been practicing. It’s kind of breakfast-like, but also dinner-ish. Brunch-ish, too.”

“I love it.” She ate a few more bites. “So what time do you have to get up tomorrow?”

“Early. I need to leave around seven-thirty. I’ve got this system and route, now, that helps me miss the worst of the traffic that bottlenecks into DC.” She ran her foot up Lexa’s calf. “So you get to sleep in.”

She sighed. “A great thought, but I’ll get up with you and go over to the other house so I can start emptying the pod.”

“Yeah, about that.”

Lexa gave her a look.

“I called in some backup.”

“Clarke…”

“Polis crew will be here Saturday around noon and we’re going to move your stuff into your house.”

“What—”

“And then we’re going to have a barbecue in your back yard.” She picked up her wine and sipped, affecting innocence. “And then I thought maybe I could stay over.” She gave her a playful shrug. “I mean, if you want me to.”

Lexa took her hand. “How are you so amazing?”

“I took a class.” She smirked and leaned in for a kiss. “So you’d better sleep in, Woods. I also expect you to camp out here for the next couple of days and be mellow.”

“You know I have a thing for your bossy side,” she said as she gave her another kiss.

“And I am shamelessly using it. Seriously. Sleep in tomorrow and chill out. This is a big thing, uprooting, even if it’s to a place you like with people you like. Give yourself some adjustment time.”

“I’m not sure I need any, since I’m so glad to be back.”

“Then do a couple of stay-cation days. Even superheroes need some rest.”

She laughed. “Says the incredibly busy awesome artist.”

“Work hard, play hard.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively then gestured at the quiche. “Do you want some more?”

“No. That was perfect.”

“Well, there’s that other one, too, that you can eat tomorrow. I haven’t had a chance to go to the grocery store this week, but whatever I’ve got is yours.”

“That could go any number of ways.”

“So I’m hoping.”

Lexa laughed and pushed back from the table. She picked up their plates and kissed the top of Clarke’s head before she went into the kitchen.

Clarke came in afterward, carrying their empty wine glasses. Lexa got the rest of the dishes and while Clarke put the quiches away in containers, she rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher.

“What time do you usually get home on school days?” Lexa asked as she wiped down the countertops.

“If the traffic goddesses are with me, around five on Thursdays. That whole secret route I take.” She put the containers in the fridge then looked at her. “If you get hungry before I get home, go ahead and eat something. I’ll probably do some takeout when I get home, if you want to go that route.”

“Okay,” she said, noncommittal, because she already had a plan for dinner tomorrow and it involved going to the grocery store and having something ready for Clarke when she got home. But she wanted it to be a surprise, so she just gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Text me when you leave and we’ll figure it out.”

Clarke didn’t respond for a few moments and the look in her eyes made Lexa’s heart feel like it was skipping around in her chest. “I know this…situation between us is still kind of new,” Clarke said, “but I really—” she stopped, like she was trying to figure out what to say. “I just really like that you’re going to be here when I get back.”

She hugged her. “God, so do I.”

“And not to freak you out, but I also really like how that conversation we just had sounded pretty couple-like.”

Lexa leaned back a little so she could look at her. “It did. And I’m so here for it.”

Clarke studied her face, expression hopeful. “You’re sure?”

“Completely.” She kissed her, taking her time, savoring everything in this moment, and Clarke responded in kind, a slow, deep recognition of where they’d been and how far they’d come.

Clarke stopped after several long, delicious minutes. “I was thinking of hanging out with you on the couch and watching some TV, but…” she squeezed her hips gently. “I’d rather bypass that and go upstairs.” She toyed with the hem of Lexa’s shirt.

“I love how we’re on the same page about so many things.”

She smiled in that sultry way she had. “Same.” She went to check the back door and Lexa waited for her at the kitchen doorway while she turned off the lights and then she took Clarke’s hand, checked the front door, then led her to the stairs.

At the top, Clarke kissed her and slid her hands under Lexa’s shirt. “God, I missed you,” she whispered. “And not just while you were in New York since Christmas.”

She brushed Clarke’s hair away from her face. “All these years I missed you when you weren’t around and I didn’t understand why.” She cupped her cheek. “And now I do.” She kissed her and it heated quickly, like gasoline on the already slow-burning coals between them. They ended up in bed, their clothes decorating the floor, their voices and laughter soft in the night, their touches gentle then urgent, and Clarke guided Lexa’s fingers between her thighs, and God, she was so wet, and fuck, she was beautiful when she came.

And clearly not taking any recovery time, as she pushed Lexa onto her back and they started all over again, until Lexa arched beneath the onslaught of Clarke’s fingers and tongue and then she fell back onto the mattress with a long groan and smile.

She pulled Clarke against her, their skin sweat-slicked, both still breathing heavily.

“Damn,” Lexa said after a while and Clarke laughed.

“Seconded.” She shifted her position a little and kissed her neck. “God, you’re amazing.”

“Huh. I was just thinking that about you.”

“Look at that. Still on the same page.”

“I’d make some comment about how that’s not hard to do, since we’re also between covers, but…”

Clarke groaned and laughed. “Book jokes. Nerd.”

“You went there, too. Double nerd.”

“Is that even a thing? Double nerd?”

“It is now.”

Clarke laughed again and kissed her and the taste of them both filled her mouth and she was ready for another round and she moved so Clarke’s thigh was between her own.

The kiss deepened and Clarke pressed her thigh—oh, God.

Lexa groaned into her mouth and felt Clarke smile.

“You’re so goddamn sexy,” Clarke whispered. “And I’m so turned on.”

“So let’s do something about it.” She kissed her and again the air between them seemed to combust and could she just kiss her forever?

Clarke suddenly stopped moving and pulled away. She stared down at her for a few moments.

“Okay?” Lexa asked.

“Way more than that.” She brushed her lips over Lexa’s but let them linger. “Welcome home,” she said softly, and then they stopped talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg, y'all. IT IS HAPPENING. CLEXA IS IN POLIS TOGETHER. I CANNOT.
> 
> I have all the feels.
> 
> Srsly.
> 
> Sorry about the delay. Life is a train wreck in some respects right now. LOL But hey, we at least have Clexa fanfic, amirite?
> 
> And you can come and yell at me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/andimarquette) or [Tumblr](http://www.andimarquette.tumblr.com) if you want (also, heard a rumor that Pornhub might buy Tumblr, which will restore it to its previous mostly unrestricted glory...?)


	17. Pod Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has lunch with Raven for a deep convo but she also reveals some suspicions she has about Octavia that she later shares with Lexa. Then it's moving day at Lexa's and oh, yeah. Some smut is involved. #sorrynotsorry

Clarke took the metal card holder the cashier handed her that displayed the order number and Raven carried a tray with their drinks and silverware. They found a table near the front of the restaurant that looked out over the street. She liked this place, with its hip but mellow café vibe and they had great gyros, which is what she ordered.

“So?”

Clarke set the holder on the table, took her jacket off, and sat down. “What?” She picked up her water.

“Oh, my God, Griff. Lexa. For fuck’s sake, details. Did you do a slow-motion run into each other’s arms last night when she got to Polis?”

She had to cover her mouth to keep from spitting her water out.

“I wish I could have filmed it.”

“Jesus, stop.” She was still laughing and she grabbed a napkin from the tray and wiped her mouth.

“I would have found a really good soundtrack for it. Viral on Instagram.”

“It wasn’t slow-motion.” Though some of what they did after that in bed…she cleared her throat.

This time, Raven laughed. “Okay, I would have filmed it and slowed it down for social media.”

She rolled her eyes, still laughing a little.

“Okay, for real. How is she?”

“Amazing.”

“Um. Details?”

“Really?”

“Eww, not about your sexy-times. How does it feel now that she’s in Polis for real?”

“It’s both amazing and surreal.” Clarke toyed with the napkin. “I mean, if anybody had told me this time last year that this would be happening between me and Lexa by the end of the year, I would have thought they were nuts.” She smiled. “Even though I would have been wishing for it.”

“Plus the bonus move to Polis.”

“ _That_ is also amazing.”

“Christmas mojo that clearly extended past the Christmas part. Did you tell her that Polis crew will be de-podding her on Saturday?”

“Yes, but I didn’t use that term, though I think I might start.”

“You have my permission. How’d she take it?” Raven picked up her Diet Coke.

“Pretty well, actually. I told her again this morning that she had better not go and start unloading, thinking she was just trying to help.”

She smiled. “Aww. She would have, too.” She frowned. “Wait. Don’t you get up way early on teaching days?”

“Yeah. I usually leave the house around seven.”

“Why the hell was Lexa awake? She needs to chill for a bit.”

Clarke smiled and shrugged. “She got up while I was in the shower and made coffee for me.”

“Did she put it in a travel mug?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus. I cannot resist your heart eyes. The cuteness of all this is killing me.”

“And she knows I don’t like to eat much that early, if at all, so she…” she trailed off, thinking about Lexa in her kitchen that morning, wearing baggy sweats and one of Clarke’s old tees and a smile, her hair mussed from the night before.

“What?” Raven said. “The suspense is killing me. What did she do?”

“She made me a French-style breakfast.”

“Which is what?”

“A couple slices of a baguette and some jam.” She sighed, happy. “It was fucking perfect, Raven. Perfect.”

“God, I’m now a heart eyes gif.”

Clarke grinned. “You kind of are.” She smirked. “And then she walked me to the door and made sure I had everything, including the coffee.” And she had kissed her and said she’d see her later after Clarke got her to promise to go back to bed for a while.

Raven stared at her. “Fuck, just marry her already.”

She flushed and thank God a server arrived with their food. He took the number-holder with him when he retreated and Clarke picked up her gyros sandwich and took a bite, studiously trying to avoid Raven’s gaze.

“Too soon, huh?” She teased. “But seriously, that’s some marriage material there. And not gonna lie, I want to be your best man. Oh, caveat. I’ll only do that if you marry Lexa.”

“Thanks for the clarification,” she said with an exaggerated eyeroll.

“I’m serious. She’s perfect for you. You’re perfect for her. There is literally no reason to marry anybody else. And I look super dope in a tux.”

“How about you wear a tux to your _own_ wedding, hmm?” Clarke raised her eyebrows. “When are the two of you going to make honest women of each other?”

She shrugged. “We’ve talked about it.”

“And?”

“We’re not completely opposed, but we’re not completely sure. Unmarried perpetual engagement is kind of where we are.”

“Wait. Engagement?”

Raven finished chewing and swallowed. “Not in the traditional sense. We’re way more serious than girlfriends but not quite ready for the marriage thing.”

“Well, I’ll return the favor and be best man at _your_ wedding.”

“How about we just have Polis crew across the board as best buds? None of this binary gendered bullshit.”

“I support this initiative. If there are weddings in our futures, we will have Polis crew best buds there with us.”

Raven smiled and took another bite.

“What?”

She looked at her, expression innocent.

“Whatever, Reyes. I know that look.”

“What look?”

“That one. Where you know something you’re not saying.”

“Just thinking when, not if, with regard to weddings.”

Weddings plural? Are you thus including yourself in your future math?”

She didn’t respond for a bit, and instead took another bite. “I think so. I mean, I can’t imagine myself with anyone but Anya, and it seems that we will eventually end up married. And you and Lexa are pretty much made for each other, so I think there’s a wedding there, too.” She laughed. “Down the line sometime, Griff. Damn, relax. You look like you just got caught naked at a public event.”

She might’ve felt a little like that, too. A more permanent arrangement with Lexa had entered her mind, and yes, that had included marriage, but God, they’d just started.

“Seriously. Relax,” Raven repeated. She set her fork down. “Okay, I revise my former statement. _If_ there are weddings in our futures. I mean, that was kind of marriage-centric of me, anyway. It’s not something everybody wants and you can be in perfect relationships without it.”

“It’s—I don’t know. This whole thing with Lexa is still relatively new.”

“But is it?” Raven picked up her fork. “Seems to me you’ve been building toward this for years. You’ve gotten to know each other pretty well—Exhibit A. Lexa knows you don’t like to eat much early in the morning, so she accommodates it with a cute French-style breakfast and a travel mug of coffee that she got up early to do for you. That’s a little thing, but it’s also a big thing. Exhibit B. You know Lexa has a hard time asking people for help, so you arrange it in a respectful way and make sure she’s comfortable with it. Both of you do things like this for each other without even thinking, because you know each other so well and you care about each other. You’re like a well-oiled machine, the way you fit, and that’s because you’ve had years of interacting as friends. Who, I might add, have been support systems for each other throughout those times. Like when you and your mom weren’t getting along.”

Clarke poked at her rice. “That was hard.”

“Yeah. But Lexa was there for you in ways that the rest of us couldn’t be.”

“What do you mean? Polis crew was supportive, too.”

“But Lexa _gets_ you in ways other people don’t. I mean, you’re one of my best friends, but we have a different level of interaction than you do with Lexa, which has always been a little deeper but unspoken. The two of you operate on whole different levels and even when we were in college, you two always had a special connection. And that’s awesome.”

“I’m never sure what to do with deep Reyes,” Clarke grumbled.

“Maybe listen to her? I don’t drop my wisdom on just anybody.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Look. Whatever happens, just make sure you’re happy and healthy. You and I both know that relationships take a giant fuck-ton of work, but when you find someone who gets you, and who makes you feel lifted up and not dragged down, well, it’s worth it, whether it involves the M-word or not. You and whoever is in your life in that capacity get to decide what works.”

She nodded, thinking that the only person she wanted to be deciding that with had handed her a travel mug of coffee that morning and kissed her into next week.

Raven grinned. “You’ve got heart eyes again. Wonder who you’re thinking about.”

“Whatever.”

She chuckled. “Uh-huh.”

She took another bite of her sandwich. “Speaking of relationships,” she said after she chewed and swallowed, “have you noticed anything different about Octavia?”

“What do you mean? You actually see her more than I do.”

“I don’t know. Just…different.”

“Like what? Like she’s wearing safety pins in her ears, spiking her hair, and wearing ripped fishnets and combat boots?”

“She already went through that phase,” Clarke said with a laugh. “No, more…fuck, I can’t put words to it, but I think it was the week after New Year’s that something was different. And I’ve been thinking about it more recently, because she made a comment a few days ago that also seemed different for her.”

“Um, I’m a science-type, Griff. I need a little more to go on, here.”

“Okay, the week after New Year’s she came by the gallery on her way to the pub and she seemed…older, but not in an age way. She just seemed more grounded and mellow.”

Raven snorted. “She got laid. Duh.”

“No, she has a different look when that happens.”

Her eyes widened. “Okay, I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that you might know how your friends look after sexy-times.”

“Spare me. You know us all, so you can tell, too, if somebody hooked up. You teased the fuck out of me and O during college because you could tell when we got some. Not with each other, I’ll add for clarification.”

“Fine. Did she say anything to indicate something going on in her life?”

Clarke thought back, replaying the conversation. “Not really. She teased me about Lexa, which is normal, and I asked her if we were still on for the end of January chili-fest at my house to thank all of you for helping me with my opening.”

“This all seems normal.”

“Oh, and then I asked her if she wanted to go out for drinks—” She stopped, realization kicking in. “Oh, my God.”

Raven frowned. “What?”

“She didn’t want drinks.”

“Lots of people don’t want drinks.”

“But that coupled with some other things—what if she’s pregnant?”

“Wait. What? How do you—”

“Because she said she’d love to hang out, but she wasn’t really into having drinks.”

“So? She works at a pub. I’m sure she gets tired of alcohol.”

“When have you ever known Octavia to turn down a beer? Unless she was on shift or designated driver? Jesus, I wasn’t seeing all the clues.”

“What clues? O turns down a drink night and suddenly she’s pregnant?”

“That wasn’t the first time. I didn’t really think too much of it then, but didn’t you notice at chili-fest she wasn’t drinking alcohol?”

“She was being responsible and the designated driver.”

“Except they came with Harper and Monty.”

Raven frowned. “Huh. Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Harper said Monty was the designated driver that night and they were going to drop O and Lincoln off after chili-fest.”

“Okay, this is sounding rather intriguing.”

“And when I got back from New York earlier this month, I was supposed to go with O to dinner but she cancelled and said she was tired. I called her and asked if she was okay and if she was coming down with something and she said no, just that she was tired.”

Raven’s eyes widened. “That never happens unless she’s getting sick.”

“Exactly.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“When she met me at Lexa’s to wait for the pod people—oh, God, that sounded wrong.”

Raven laughed and almost spit her food out. “Don’t ever wait for the pod people, Griff. Everybody knows that,” she managed to say after a few seconds.

She laughed, too, thinking about the brief conversation she and Lexa had the previous evening about escaping urban areas and zombies. “Anyway. The storage pod delivery truck. That’s when I last saw Octavia, and that was, what? Maybe four days ago?”

“And how did she seem?”

“Fine, but with that weird chill vibe. I asked if she and Lincoln were still into helping unpack the pod this weekend and she said yes, that she was planning to go to bed early Friday—”

“What the fuck? Early to bed? O never does _that_ unless she’s sick.”

“Or pregnant, apparently,” Clarke said with a smirk.

“Okay, assuming this is the case, it’s clearly not that far along since they haven’t told anyone. Wonder if she drank at New Year’s. If she did, then this is way new. If she didn’t, then it’s not as new. Was she drinking at Christmas?”

Clarke thought back. “You know, I don’t think she actually did. At the pub party before my gallery show, she was serving drinks, but she didn’t actually seem to be drinking.”

“Okay, so let’s assume she found out she was pregnant around then, maybe around New Year’s.”

“Which means she’ll probably be telling us all in the next month or so, which gets her through the first trimester. The chance of a miscarriage drops to around one percent by week twelve, provided nothing else goes wrong.”

Raven smiled. “Listen to you, sounding like your mom.”

She snorted. “Do you not remember the good comprehensive sex ed in high school we had? Plus bio and anatomy classes in college? You took a couple of those, too.”

“But you retained it better.” She sat back. “But whatever. If O’s pregnant, I’m way stoked because that means I get to be a Polis crew aunt.”

“We all do. This kid is going to have so many doting adult family they won’t know what to do.”

“Hello. Slumber party at Tía Raven’s, that’s what.”

Clarke laughed again and finished her sandwich while Raven finished hers.

“Do you still want kids?” Clarke asked.

“Eventually.”

“Does Anya still?”

“We haven’t talked about it for a while, but she did say that in the future, she wanted to try out the whole parent thing. I guess we should talk about it again.”

“You said she wanted to be a parent about a year after you hooked up. And I know she tries to be Captain Crusty, but I’ve seen her around kids.”

“Oh, you did not just call her that.”

She smirked and Raven lapsed into silence for a few moments, frowning.

“Hey,” Clarke said. “I’m sorry. That was maybe a too-personal question.”

“Whatever. We’re BFFs. I was just thinking that going the kids route means we’d probably better do the M-word, y’know? I mean, that helps ensure everybody’s rights and all, especially with the shit going on all over the place. And fuck, we might not be able to fucking marry if this bullshit keeps up, with the new asshats on the Supreme Court and all.” She sighed. “And this just got really dark.”

Clarke squeezed her hand, comforting, but she had the same concerns.

“So fucking marry Lexa, who will then use her badass attorney powers for all of us.”

“I don’t have to marry her for her to do that.”

“I know, but it’s a cool image.”

“You just want a wedding so you can wear a tux.”

“Well, yeah,” she said with a hair flip.

“I think you should wear a tux whenever the hell you want,” Clarke said.

She didn’t respond right away. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve been teasing you about Lexa and marriage and maybe it makes you uncomfortable and that’s not what I’m trying to do. I just think you and Lexa are the best couple, and the two of you light up around each other or when you talk about each other and I really love seeing how happy you are. I just hope that continues.”

“Thanks. And the thing is, I feel pretty serious about her, but it makes me nervous because that’s big, and there are big decisions that come with that, and I wonder if I’m ready. If she’s ready. If what we’re doing now will lead to other things. It’s kind of exciting but scary.”

Raven squeezed her hand. “I get it. So have you thought, then, about the M-word in your life generally?”

She chuckled. “Yes, but in the abstract, mostly. Same with kids. I think I want to have kids eventually, but I don’t want to do it alone because I have a sense of all the fucking work that entails and if I don’t have to do it alone, that would be great.”

“But you’d want someone you really care about to do it with.”

“Yeah.” She chewed her lip for a bit, tension spreading across her back. “Honestly, I can see Lexa in that role in my life, and not just because I’m all, ‘oh, here’s a responsible adult I trust to help raise kids’. It’s because I’m really into her and it seems we work pretty well together, and there’s no one else I would want in my life in that role.” It felt good, saying that, and she relaxed.

“Wow. I’m…wow. That’s a pretty big admission.”

“Yeah. Feels good, though, because that’s how I feel though I want to still be careful and mindful about how this all goes with her.”

“That’s fair. Does _she_ want kids?”

“The last time the topic came up was years ago and it was abstract, like, ‘oh, some day maybe there’ll be kids in our lives’. And we haven’t really talked about it since, but I have seen her around kids.”

“We all have. Like when she helped you with that summer art camp a couple years ago for a couple of days. They loved her.”

“Well, yeah. She created that whole castle thing out of cardboard and taught them how to defend it from the Mountain People.”

Raven laughed. “I forgot about that. And she had a whole story there, about the origins of the Mountain People and how they wanted to kidnap people in other kingdoms and make them do hard labor in their mines.”

“Right? And that one little girl had idol heart eyes for her and called her Heda.”

“I remember that. What did that even mean?”

“Not sure, but she started saying it the first day and said that’s what the Castle People called leaders, because they were the heads of whatever they were leading.” And Clarke suddenly thought about the piece she had started of Lexa as a warrior on the train New Year’s Eve. Heda. Why had that not occurred to her then?

“Clever. And then all the kids were calling her that.”

Clarke smiled. “Yeah. Lexa thought it was cool.” It was perfect, actually. She also remembered the last day of the camp, when Lexa had gone around to all of the kids and gave them each a personal message regarding their service to the castle and how lucky she was to have them in her guard and all of them had hugged her.

“Why was she even in Polis?”

“She took some time off to visit Indra and Gustus and spend a couple days with Raven and Anya.”

“And spend some time with you.” Raven gave her an “uh-huh” look. “Looking back on it now, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, we should get going.” She stood and stacked their plates and silverware and carried them to the bus tub near the trash can. “Come on,” she said when she got back to the table. “I’ll walk with you.”

“New topic. How many of your students are totally thirsty for you?” Raven asked as they left.

“None, I hope. Because, yikes.”

“Like they have a choice when you wear your artist leathers.” She gestured at Clarke’s jacket and boots.

She laughed. “And now I have a name for my casual outfits.”

“But seriously, how is teaching going?”

Clarke adjusted her pace to match Raven’s, which was slightly slower. “It’s fun, but God, there’s always a lot to think about. This is a good undergrad group, for the most part, except for the two mansplainers.”

She made a disgusted noise. “There’s always at least one.”

“And one is bad enough. I have two, but there are also some badass women and a couple of other dudes who shut them down. Which I secretly revel in.”

“Though you maintain your smooth Clarke veneer,” Raven said, grinning.

"I'm also seeing a lot of support for the one trans and two nonbinary students I have. That makes me happy."

"That sounds awesome." She slowed down a little.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I need to make an adjustment on this brace…hold on.” She tweaked something on the knee joint then started walking again.

“All good?”

“Yes. This is a prototype, and it’s lightweight as fuck, but it needs some work, because it tends to shift too easily. That’s the meeting I’m having today. We’re going to talk about what’s working and what’s not and there’ll be another person there who’s also wearing one. We’ll all be comparing notes.”

“Cool. Let me know what happens.”

They stopped, waiting for a street light.

“Are both the mansplainers undergrad?”

“Yes, fortunately. I’m working with grad students on a couple of their projects. One of the things I’m doing, though, is helping undergrad and grad students get a sense of what it means to be a working artist. So I’ve brought in a few of my friends on the circuit who base in DC and Baltimore to talk with them and I’m having all my students develop a project of their own that they’d like funded.”

“Badass. Do they have to also find hypothetical funding for it?” Raven adjusted her backpack and it reminded Clarke of their days at Polis, walking across campus together.

“Yep.”

They crossed the street to the campus, and Clarke thought about the differences between Arkadia and Polis Universities. Arkadia was a more urban school, with sleek newer buildings and a lot of programs for working professionals. Polis, on the other hand, was smaller and geared mostly toward liberal arts, though it had decent STEM and business programs. It focused mostly on undergraduate education and provided student housing on campus via dorms, which gave it a much different vibe than the commuter-oriented flavor of Arkadia.

“I’m also trying to get them to think in bigger terms, and how art is a language that can reach different people, and play different roles in different communities.”

“Bet the mansplainers are having a hard time with that.”

“They’re struggling with it because these discussions deal with power and privilege, and they of course see themselves as the default for everything, and it makes them uncomfortable when they’re in spaces or topics that demonstrate that’s a bullshit position and it reflects systemically unequal institutions. But I give them room to fuck up, and I think the other students are taking that cue, because they’re firm but gentle when they derail them.”

“God, you could’ve been a therapist.”

She chuckled. “Different battles take different weapons.”

“Okay, that was both pithy and sexy.”

“I got it from Lexa.”

“Because of course you did and of course she would say something like that.”

They were almost to the mechanical engineering building. This part of Arkadia U felt really corporate, with its modern buildings reminiscent of office structures. Clarke preferred the quirky historic sensibilities of Polis U, and its pretty walkways lined with old-growth hardwood trees. Over the years, Polis officials had also ensured myriad outdoor sitting areas, which made a lot of the campus grounds feel like a park. Arkadia was mostly concrete and steel and soulless, Clarke thought.

Raven stopped near the front doors. “Thanks for having lunch.”

“Duh, BFF. This is how we roll.”

“So we’ll see you Saturday. Should we go to your place first?”

“When are you leaving DC?”

“Um…ten-ish, probably.”

“Just come to my house. If I’m not there, drop your stuff off. That’s why you have a key.” She gave her a quick hug. “Also, don’t mention our suspicions about what’s going on with Octavia beyond Anya. O and Lincoln will announce when they’re ready.”

“Copy that. If that’s the case. All we have is a lot of circumstantial and anecdotal evidence.” She grinned. “But I’m inclined to lean with what you’ve observed until we’re told otherwise. Okay. See ya. Hi to Lexa.”

She gave her another hug. “Hi to Anya. See you Saturday.” She waited until Raven had gone inside then went to the art building, which was about three city blocks away, a renovated 60s-style office building. She did appreciate the re-purposing of older urban structures and she liked that the remodel had left some of the older architectural features in place, like the original wooden doors to the offices and a lot of the original layout, which still worked.

She went to the office space the department had arranged for her to make sure no students were waiting for her, though that was rare because most of them signed up for her regular office hours ahead of time and she had already talked to the two who requested the before-class hours today.

While there, she checked emails and the campus messaging service then texted Lexa.

 _Raven says hi_. She then checked her planner. The spring school art show in Polis was in two weeks and she needed to make sure everything was ready at the gallery for it. She’d also been arranging some local press to draw traffic to the show and to the winning pieces, which she would showcase. She’d managed to convince Octavia that it was important to have the winner of each school and the runner-ups, that parents would get a kick out of that. Just having five winners to showcase wasn’t the point. This was about kids seeing their art in a gallery. So she had decided to clear more space on her wall, and to feature the art show winners and runners-up for a month. The parents and the artists would decide what to charge for the pieces, whatever they were.

Win-win. Publicity for everyone, and kids got to come and see their art on a gallery wall.

 _Hi back_ , Lexa texted. _How’s your day going?_

 _fine_. _leaving in about thirty mins. shld be there @ 5 barring traffic issues. can we think @ dinner when I get there?_ She set her phone down and started to respond to an email from a gallery in Los Angeles when she heard the little noise her phone made when she got a text soon after she sent one.

_Yep. Text me when you leave. [heart emoji]_

Clarke sighed happily and smiled. _just decided somebody shld launch a taco delivery srvc_

Lexa texted back a few seconds later. _lol we’ll plan it when you get home_

And oh, God, she had another case of feels, thinking about planning things together when she got home. She really, really liked knowing that Lexa was in her house and that she was going home to her.

She texted back, _can’t wait [heart eyes emoji]_ then finished responding to the email, packed up her laptop and tablet, and left her office. After she checked in with the main office, she went to the parking garage, about a ten-minute walk from the art building. Once in her car, she texted Lexa then settled in to battle some traffic for a bit. She’d be free of the worst of it in a half-hour or so, and then it was another half-hour or forty-five minutes to Polis on her alternate route.

That’s pretty much what happened, as she turned onto her street around 5.15 and there was Lexa’s car in her driveway and she pulled up behind it and sat looking at it for a few moments, thinking about what it symbolized.

God, she still couldn’t believe, sometimes, what had happened. She got her bag and went to the front door, which she had to unlock (and she was glad about that, given some of the stories she’d heard about home invasions).

Something smelled really good and what sounded like Cuban music emanated from her living room speakers. She set her bag down just as Lexa emerged from the kitchen, wearing faded jeans, a pair of slippers, and an old gray Polis University tee. She had her hair up in a messy bun but on her, it looked stylish.

“Hi. Thought I heard you,” she said as she approached. “How was the drive?”

“Um.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That good, huh?” she said with one of her too-cute smirks.

“It’s really not fair how fucking good you look no matter what you’re wearing.”

“Says the hot-ass artist in her boots and leather jacket.” She pulled her into a kiss and Clarke would gladly drive through all kinds of traffic every day if this was what happened afterward. “How was your day?” Lexa murmured.

“My day is off the chain right now.”

She chuckled. “And before right now?”

“Fine.”

“Good. So why don’t you get your chill clothes on and come to the kitchen?” Lexa gave her another quick kiss.

“Okay.” But she didn’t walk away just yet. Instead, she pulled her into yet another kiss. “I am so glad to see you.”

“Same. And I have a glass of wine waiting for you.”

“I’ll be right there.” She managed to tear herself away but she watched Lexa walk into the kitchen before she took her boots and jacket off then went upstairs to change into baggy jeans, a tee and sweatshirt. She put a pair of slippers on and went to the kitchen, where Lexa was standing at the stove, monitoring a frying pan.

She looked up and smiled when Clarke came in then picked up the glass of wine on the island and handed it to her.

“Okay, what’s happening in here? Because it smells amazing.”

“Fajitas.”

Clarke stared at her for a second then set her wine down and pulled her close. “So basically, you went to the grocery store today _and_ you’re making dinner.”

“Yep. All good with you?” Amusement and so much more danced in her eyes.

Clarke ran her fingers along her jaw. “God, yes. Can I help?”

“You can drink that wine and keep me company.”

And fuck, Lexa’s lips against hers. “There is seriously something about you and kitchens,” Clarke said softly.

She smiled in that sly, hungry way she had and fuck, Clarke was already turned on. Lexa gave her another quick kiss and turned back to the stove. She followed and watched as she stirred the strips of steak and vegetables.

“It’s not tacos, but it might be in the same ballpark,” Lexa said.

“It’s fucking incredible. Thank you.” She gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“So how’s Raven?”

Clarke sipped her wine. “She’s Raven.”

“And she probably wanted to know how things went yesterday when I got to Polis.”

“She asked if we ran in slow motion toward each other.”

Lexa laughed. “Sort of.”

“I’ll have you know I was not doing that in slow motion.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it, no, you weren’t.” She flashed her another sly smile.

“We also discussed something else that we think is interesting.” She stepped back to give Lexa room to move the frying pan off the heat.

“What?” she asked as she opened the oven and took out a tinfoil-wrapped bundle that Clarke figured was tortillas.

“Octavia.”

Lexa set the bundle on the stovetop and looked at her, frowning. “Is something going on with her?”

“Possibly.”

“Details.”

“So, here’s the circumstantial evidence that Raven and I discussed today. At least twice in the past few weeks, Octavia has declined drinks. She has also cancelled having dinner with me once because she was too tired. And she said that she’ll be going to bed early tomorrow night so she can be ready to help us on Saturday.” Clarke took another sip. “What’s your take on all that?”

Lexa frowned again while she put the contents of the frying pan into a serving bowl. “You get to see Octavia more than I do. How does she seem?”

“Different.”

“How?” Lexa stood with the bowl, waiting.

“It’s hard to describe. Mellow is what I came up with. And only because that’s not really her jam in general."

“Huh.” She carried the serving bowl out of the kitchen and Clarke quickly put the tortillas that were in the tinfoil bundle into a basket lined with a cloth napkin. She took that to the table, where Lexa was pouring their glasses full of water from a pitcher.

“Oh, my God. You did everything.” She stared at the small bowls on the table, each with a separate ingredient, including chopped cilantro, tomatoes, radishes, salsa, and guacamole.

“Fajita bar. Except at the table.”

“I—” she hesitated. “I don’t think I’ve ever cried over fajitas before, but I could do that right now.”

Lexa cocked her head, a question in her eyes.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“I like doing things like this.” She smiled. “Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

Clarke did, and when Lexa returned, she had Clarke’s wine glass and her own, both topped off. She put them down and sat.

“To my second night in Polis.”

“Definitely.” She touched her glass to Lexa’s, sipped, then started building fajitas.

“It’s strange that O would turn down a beer,” Lexa said as she put strips of meat, peppers, and onions into one of the tortillas.

“Exactly.” Clarke took a bite. “Oh, God, these are off the hook.” She chewed and swallowed.

“Not drinking. Tired. Different mindset.” Lexa raised an eyebrow. “Do you think she might be pregnant?”

“Boom. And that’s why you’re an attorney. All that evidence-thinking.”

“Or something.” She smiled.

“Anyway, I’m leaning yes. And now I’m pretty sure Raven’s convinced, too, though she says the evidence is still circumstantial.”

“Let’s go with the pregnant angle. Was she drinking around Christmas or at the dinner we had before your show?”

“See, I don’t remember for sure. And I definitely don’t know what she did at New Year’s. I was a little busy making that holiday my bitch with a certain woman who I fucking can’t get enough of.”

Lexa smirked against the rim of her glass. “Same. Glad we have that in common.”

“Oh, we do.” She nudged Lexa’s calf with her foot. “Anyway, I told Raven to keep the O situation on the DL, since if it’s true, then O and Lincoln will make the announcement when they’re ready. I’m guessing they’re waiting to get through the first trimester before they say anything.”

“Well, if that’s the case and O’s pregnant, we get to be aunts.” She grinned.

Clarke laughed. “Raven said the same thing, and that the kid will have tons of family in Polis crew.”

“It takes a village.” Lexa made another fajita. “And Polis crew is the best fucking village ever. Plus, you will make the best aunt ever.”

“Aww. Are you saying I’m good with kids?” she teased as she nudged her leg again.

“It’s the truth. You’re great with kids.” She shrugged and took a bite of her fajita.

“So are you.”

“I’m not around them as much as you are.”

“But when you are, it’s amazing.”

She chuckled and took another bite.

“I think it’s because you haven’t lost your own childhood spark.”

Lexa looked at her, puzzled.

“You still tap into what it was like to be a kid, and to act silly sometimes, and to be present in whatever you’re doing. And you like surprises, as structured as you pretend to be.”

She laughed. “As structured as I pretend to be? That makes me sound like I have a stick up my ass or something.”

“No, because you’re only presenting that. I know there’s a lot more going on underneath.” She squeezed her hand. “I know you do have a certain infrastructure with regard to how you deal with the world, but I also know that you can be flexible and spontaneous, and I’ve seen it when you’re around friends and family and kids.”

“So are you saying I’ll be a good aunt, too?”

“You’ll be awesome as an aunt. And a parent, if you decide some day that’s what you want to do.” Wait. Shit. Did she mean to say that?

Lexa raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Um.” Heat flared at her neck. “Uh, I mean, Raven and I were talking about it today in relation to our theorizing about Octavia. Raven said she eventually wanted kids, too,” she finished in a rush. Shit.

Lexa took another bite of her fajita. “She and Anya have talked about it. As prickly as Anya tries to be, she’s a sucker for kids.”

She relaxed at the slight change in subject. “I know. I called her Captain Crusty to Raven.”

“Oh, my God, I’m so glad I wasn’t taking a bite or drink right then because you’d probably have to do the Heimlich,” she said, laughing.

Clarke smiled, relieved that she didn’t seem to get weird about the kids thing. “But it’s true.”

“Completely. I might have to co-opt that in reference to her.”

“Raven already is, so join the club.”

Lexa gestured at Clarke’s wine glass. “A little more?”

“Yes, please.”

She stood, leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. “And for the record, I think you’d be an amazing parent, too. In my case, if opportunity presents itself, I think being a parent would be a hell of a good time. Hardest thing ever, but worth it, with the right person.” She gave her one of those damn knowing smirks and went to the kitchen and oh, God, even that made her melt and holy shit, Lexa had opened a door to further long-term discussions.

And she knew they’d have those discussions later, when they’d had a chance to settle into this new situation between them.

And holy shit, she was thinking that they’d be together for them. Because why wouldn’t they? She couldn’t envision herself with anybody but Lexa. Was it presumptuous of her to go there?

A few moments later, Lexa was back with the wine bottle and she squeezed Clarke’s shoulder and poured a bit into both their glasses then set the bottle near the water pitcher and sat down. And fuck, the way she was looking at her—no, it was not presumptuous, and in the warmth in Lexa’s eyes, and the safety she had always represented for her, she knew this would unfold at its own pace, and that they were both on board.

“Thank you.” Clarke picked up her wine glass, and from Lexa’s expression, they both knew she was talking about more than just the wine and Lexa leaned over and kissed her again.

“Also, these fajitas are beyond good. I’m now going for number four.” Clarke set to work with a tortilla. “Thanks for going to the store. And for this.” She looked over at her. “So what’d you do today besides this?”

“I swung by the house.”

She stopped making the fajita. “Uh-huh. And please don’t ruin Polis crew’s Saturday by telling me you unloaded the pod all by yourself.”

Lexa gave her a mock horrified look. “I would never take away from Polis crew’s fun moving all my shit out of a storage pod.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “Lexa…”

“Seriously. I didn’t. I did take the stuff in my car over, though. And from my observations, I have come to the conclusion—already noted by my blunt cousin Anya—that I don’t have nearly enough furniture to fill that space.”

She smiled. “A good problem to have, seems to me. We can find a few things around here. I mean, maybe another bed for a guest room and a bigger table. A couple more chairs for the living room and boom, done.”

“I’m going to need some outdoor furniture, maybe. And shit, I don’t think I’ve ever had to do this. It makes me nervous.”

“You do kind of live a stripped-down life.”

She pretended to pout.

“But you’ve always been that way. Even when we were in college, you were Commander Minimalist. Like you were in the military or something and ready to ship out at any second.”

Lexa chuckled. “Fair point.”

“And living in New York, you continued that streak, since it worked in tiny apartment land.”

“Hey, I liked my tiny apartment.”

“I did, too. It always felt like you. Warm, welcoming, and safe.” She finished her fajita and looked up, catching Lexa’s gaze and God, her eyes. She could stare at them all day.

“I’m glad you felt that way in my space.”

“I have _always_ felt that way in your spaces, and I have always felt that way around you. Even the first time we met, I felt safe around you. Even when we argued about fucking theory and all the times you drove me nuts with your devil’s advocate approaches.”

She laughed.

“Even then, I always felt safe. And I will feel safe in your new space because you’re in it, and you make it that way for me.”

“That’s exactly how I feel about you and your space.”

Clarke took her hand and interlaced their fingers. “Don’t stress. You’ll figure this new house out. I’ll help.”

“It’s pretty big,” Lexa said softly. “I haven’t had this much space maybe ever.”

“So take your time deciding what you want in it. Maybe you’ll want to move after your lease is up to something else.” She shrugged. “Consider this your landing place to figure out what’s next. And who knows, maybe you’ll decide you love the house and Deb will sell it to you.” She took another bite. “It’s a fucking great house, after all.”

“It is a nice place. And the best part is that it’s super-close to your house.” She picked up her wine with her free hand.

“That is totally the best part.” Clarke squeezed her hand. “And just giving you a heads-up right now, but I plan to be spending a lot of time there.” She grinned and leaned over so she could kiss Lexa on the cheek.

“Okay, _that_ might be the best part.”

Clarke chuckled and kissed her again. “Yep. And now, do you want some coffee? There’s ice cream, too.”

“I love me some ice cream.”

“I know. And in case you didn’t see it, it’s your fave.” She stood and pulled her hand free.

“I did not see it, but then again, I was not doing recon in your freezer out of respect for your ice cream privacy.”

She laughed. “Oh, my God. You’re too much. It’s chocolate chunk.”

“Well, that’s it. I’m spending the night.”

“That’s exactly why I bought it.”

“Temptress.” Lexa stood and picked up their plates. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Didn’t think so.” Clarke smirked and picked up some of the dishes and they spent the next few minutes chatting as they cleaned up and then Clarke put decaf coffee on and set the ice cream carton out so it would soften a bit.

“Are you going to the gallery tomorrow?” Lexa asked as she finished loading the dishwasher and Clarke marveled, again, at how comfortable it was to have her around like this, and how she knew, deep down, that it would always be like this between them, and that there would always be that extra little charge in the air when they were together.

“Yes. Sophia and I are getting the space ready for the spring art show winners.”

“Oh, shit. That’s right. When is that?”

“A couple of weeks. March fourteenth.”

“Do you need some help?”

“I thought I put you on stay-cation.”

She shrugged. “That kind of _is_ stay-cation for me. I love art, and I love you, so it’s a win-win for me.”

Clarke stared at her for a few moments, and her heart felt like it might overflow with rivers of feels.

Lexa moved closer and rested her hands on Clarke’s hips. “When you look at me like that, I forget to breathe,” she said, tone soft.

Clarke pressed her forehead against Lexa’s. “And when you say stuff like that to me, I just fall more in love with you.”

“That is totally another win for me,” she said with one of her sexy-sweet smiles.

“And me.” Clarke kissed her and though it was soft and tender, a wave of heat seemed to roll down her thighs. “I also really, really love that you’re here.”

“So do I.”

Clarke pulled her closer and held onto her, head on her shoulder, enjoying this moment, surrounded by Lexa’s warmth and the faint smell of sandalwood that seemed to have always been a part of her. Crisp but still sort of earthy, and it made her think of a tower surrounded by forests, and a warrior in black who looked a whole lot like Lexa.

“Do you seriously want to go to the gallery with me tomorrow?”

“Hell, yes. I also owe Tristan a veggie burger, so I’ll see if he wants lunch at the pub.”

“If he does, you can do some Octavia recon.” Clarke kissed her neck. “Then report back to me.”

She laughed. “Are we now going to run an op together?”

“Why not? We seem to be pretty good at them.”

“True.” Lexa kissed her and heat flared between Clarke’s thighs. “But there are rules. And one of them is, ice cream before any op.”

She grinned. “Fine. And then I just want to hang out with you. I’m kind of greedy where you’re concerned.”

“Not gonna fight you on that.” Lexa got bowls out of the cabinet and opened the ice cream. Clarke watched as she got the ice cream scoop out of one of the drawers and she thought, again, that she could do this every day, that Lexa in her space just…fit. And wherever they ended up, she somehow knew that it would be together.

But right now, she really did just want to be near her, eat ice cream and drink coffee, and take her to bed where eventually, she’d fall asleep in her arms.

And that, more than anyplace, was where she wanted to be.

###

It really wasn’t fair, Lexa thought. At all.

It was simply not fair how hot Clarke looked, and it wasn’t like she was dressed up. They were moving boxes and furniture into the house, and there was no goddamn reason for her to be so fucking sexy in faded, paint-streaked jeans, paint-speckled combat boots that looked like they came from a thrift store, and a long-sleeve thermal shirt under a well-worn flannel shirt. And fuck, her baseball cap. Also well-worn, and the best part was that it had been Lexa’s, from a farm league baseball team that was no longer in Virginia. Clarke had adopted that cap their senior year of college and Lexa really had no problem with it, because she looked so cute wearing it and besides, she liked knowing that Clarke had it.

The cap was also paint-streaked and flecked, and seeing Clarke wearing it now gave her a massive case of heart eyes.

But seriously, there really was no reason for Clarke fucking Griffin to look as goddamn sexy as she did, carrying a box out of the pod toward the house, laughing at something Monty had said, but _fuck_ , she did and _fuck_ she wanted her. Wanted her sweaty and moaning against her, wanted the taste of her on her lips and tongue.

Like the night before and early this morning, starting in the bedroom and finishing in the shower, when the water finally ran cold.

God, she was a mess for Clarke fucking Griffin.

“Yo, where do you want these boxes, Lexa?”

She looked over at Murphy, who stood at the entrance to the pod, gesturing at something inside.

“Which ones?” She leaned into the pod, which was already halfway empty.

“The ones that say ‘miscellaneous’.”

“Oh, yeah. Downstairs back bedroom.”

“Cool. On it.” He and Jasper each picked up one of the bigger boxes with that description in marker on the side and walked slowly to the house. Echo trailed them with a medium-sized box.

“So Raven, Clarke, and Anya are setting your bed up,” Octavia said as she approached from the porch. She was totally trying to sound innocent but it didn’t work.

“Should I supervise?”

“I think you’ll be doing plenty of that once it’s set up,” she teased. “And I’m sure Clarke will appreciate all of it.”

“I plead the Fifth.”

She laughed. “You would.”

Lexa took a drink of her water and appraised Octavia. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You look a little pale.”

She shrugged. “I just started taking a different supplement and the doc upped my iron a little bit. It’ll all kick in soon.”

“Are you anemic?”

“No. Just a little low in the iron department.” She finished the water in her bottle.

“Go sit down. I’ll get you another water.”

“I’m fine.”

“Have you eaten recently?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Woods.”

“We’ve got snacks. Sit down on the porch. That’s why I put chairs out.” The weather was cooperating, too, and it was probably in the low fifties. “What snack do you want?”

Octavia rolled her eyes again. “Fine. I’ll sit down for a minute. And fine, I’ll have a snack. Just please, no granola bars.” She made a face and Lexa filed that away because normally, Octavia loved the kind of granola bars she had bought. “String cheese, then?”

“Perfect. And can you bring me one of those berry sparkling waters?”

“Yep.” She went inside, side-stepping Bellamy and Lincoln, who were maneuvering her table into the dining room. She heard Clarke upstairs laughing again and Raven, who was singing something.

God, she loved Polis crew.

She got a string cheese out of the fridge and a can of berry sparkling water and took both out to Octavia. “Just hang out here if you’re not up to lugging my shit around.”

Octavia opened the string cheese and took a bite. “I’m fine. New vitamins make me a little nauseated. No big deal.”

Lexa filed that away, too, for discussion later with Clarke.

“Babe? You okay?” Lincoln beelined for her and kneeled next to her chair.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she said, and she smiled and caressed his cheek with her free hand and it was such a sweet, unscripted moment that a lump formed in Lexa’s throat.

“You sure? Can I get you anything?”

“Nursemaid Woods here took care of it.” She held up the string cheese and used it to point at the can on the floor near her feet.

He grinned. “Cool.” To Lexa he said, “Thanks.”

“Polis crew, bro,” she responded. “We’re in it for the long haul. And thanks for helping with this moving stuff.”

“Damn right. Maybe we should have tees made,” he said as he stood. “Clarke could design a logo.”

“And then we could all look like we’re part of an intramural softball team.” Octavia took another bite of the cheese.

Lincoln laughed. “Maybe we should totally play that up. Or we could spell crew differently, like k-r-u or something, just to change it up and not look like a softball team. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he said as he leaned down and kissed the top of Octavia’s head. “All good?” he asked her.

“Yes. Go haul Lexa’s shit around.”

He laughed and went back to the pod.

“The back deck is getting some sun, if you want to catch some rays,” Lexa said to her, thinking that all the times she had seen Lincoln and Octavia interact, there was definitely a different energy between them now. Something deeper, maybe. More grounded.

“Later.” She finished the cheese and Lexa took the wrapper from her.

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Her brows furrowed and she held Lexa’s gaze for a few moments. And then she smiled and shook her head. “I know I can be an asshole, but I have to say that I might have a weak spot for Nursemaid Woods.”

She laughed and raised her eyebrows up and down. “Those stronger than you have succumbed to my charms.”

“No lie. And she’s upstairs right now putting your bed together. Might want to check on that.”

Lexa grinned and put the cheese wrapper in her back pocket and went to the pod where she grabbed a box destined for the upstairs bathroom, where she took it. She put the box outside the door and went to the room she had decided would be her bedroom. Raven and Clarke were stretched out on the now-finished bed while Anya was checking her phone.

“Oh, hey, Woods,” Raven said and she sat up. “Clarke insisted the bed go here, between the windows. That way, you’ll have morning light on both sides.”

“That’s great,” Lexa said, trying not to stare at Clarke. And failing.

“And now I’ll get up so you can, you know, try it out.” She smirked and got off the bed.

“Oh, hey, looks like we’re needed outside,” Anya said to Raven, and she took her hand and led her out of the room, flashing Lexa a knowing smirk as she did. She pulled the door almost closed as she left.

“I figured this would be a good place for a bed,” Clarke said as she regarded her, a teasing little lilt in her voice.

“It is.”

Clarke stood and Lexa immediately closed the distance between them, cupped Clarke’s face, and kissed her hard and deep and Jesus, the way Clarke’s tongue felt. She tasted like ginger ale and desire.

“That’s for what you do to me,” Lexa said when she pulled away. “Consider that a promise for later.” And then she gently kissed her cheek, slow and sultry, and went to the door, flashing Clarke one of the smirks she knew turned her on.

“Fucking hell,” Clarke whispered with an expression similar to the one she’d had the previous night when Lexa had pinned her wrists to the bed and teased her breasts with her mouth until Clarke begged her to go lower, and God, she had been so wet, and so ready and holy shit Lexa still couldn’t believe sometimes that this was happening between them.

“Yeah, hold that thought,” Clarke said as she brushed past her.

“I would like to hold more than that,” she shot back.

Clarke paused and gave her a cocky little smile. “Oh, you will.” And then she went down the stairs.

Lexa followed, turned on and enjoying this view of Clarke, too.

Octavia had left the porch and she was carrying one of the smaller boxes out of the pod. She seemed better, and Lexa figured if she needed to rest again, she would. At this point, she was almost positive that Octavia was pregnant, but like Clarke said, she would announce when she felt it was time.

She focused on finishing with the pod, and about thirty minutes later, it was empty and Harper and Niylah were already sweeping it out and Lexa watched her for a bit, then went inside the house, where Clarke and Anya were directing Murphy and Jasper to stack boxes in a corner of the kitchen. Lincoln was already out back setting the grill up, Octavia helping, and laughter and conversation filled the house and she smiled.

“Hi, Lexa.”

She turned. “Oh, hey, Deb.”

“Hi,” Clarke said.

“Niylah said you were in here,” Deb said with a smile. “I was in the neighborhood checking on another property and noticed what looked like a party in a pod, so I stopped by.”

“Pod party,” Raven said with a laugh. “This could be a thing.”

Lexa gave her a stricken look. “Please, no.”

“I’m backing Lexa up on this,” Clarke said. “As much as we love helping her out, she’d better not make moving a habit.”

And okay, Lexa got a thrill from the teasing, possessive way she said it.

“It gets us out of our respective houses, Griff. Not a bad thing.”

“You raise a good point,” Lexa said. “Anyway.” She looked at Deb. “We’re going to be grilling burgers—veggie and non—if you want to hang out for a bit.”

“I would love to, but I’m actually showing a house in a half-hour.”

“Bummer. What about after?”

“Dinner with the in-laws,” Deb said in a tone that managed to somehow convey neutrality and tedium.

“Well, next time,” Lexa said. “Do you want a soda or sparkling water or something?”

“No, thanks. Just wanted to see how you’re doing. And from the looks of things, everything is under control.”

“As in control as this bunch can be,” Lexa said and Raven made a goofy face just as Octavia came in from the back deck.

“Oh, hi, Deb,” she said as she got two cans of beer out of the fridge.

Lexa exchanged a look with Clarke while Raven stared at the cans.

“Do you have time to join us for burgers?” Octavia asked.

“No, thanks. I have to show a house in a bit.”

“Then you’ll just have to come by the pub for a burger.”

“I plan to. Haven’t been in a while, and it’ll be good to catch up.”

“Definitely. Maybe we can convince both Clarke _and_ Lexa to join us.”

“I’m in,” Clarke said.

Lexa nodded. “Same here.”

“God, you two,” Octavia said, but not without affection. Deb glanced at Clarke then at Lexa, puzzled. “At least make it look like I had to work to convince you,” Octavia continued as she headed back outside. “Let me know when you want to hang out with these weirdos, Deb,” she called over her shoulder and from where Lexa was standing, she could see Octavia through the door’s window and she handed one of the beers to Lincoln and the other to Jasper.

She caught Clarke’s eye again and smiled and shook her head once.

Raven smiled, too, and if Deb noticed anything she didn’t address it.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said instead. “If there’s anything you need or if something’s not right with the house, let me know.”

“Will do. Thanks for stopping by.” Lexa walked her to the front door and went with her onto the porch. “And don’t worry about the pod. That’s being picked up Tuesday.”

She smiled. “I wasn’t worried about it, but thanks for the heads-up. Have you met the neighbors yet?”

“Al and Tess on that side came by when we first started the pod party, but I met Shanice and Mike on the other side when I was here last month. Luis across the street came by briefly this morning, too.” And he seemed super-queer.

“Good. They’re all great people and they keep an eye on things.”

“I got that feeling.”

“This part of Polis is pretty tight-knit, students included, like Luis. It hasn’t changed all that much since our college days, though a few of the houses that were mostly student rentals back then aren’t anymore. And there are a few young families, too. Moira and Jessica down the block just had their second. Al and Tess have a young son, too.”

“Clarke was telling me. She’s reconned everything in a five-block radius of her house.”

“That’s no doubt true. But seriously. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“I really appreciate that. And I’m really excited to be back in Polis and in such a great house.”

“I’m glad you’re in it, too. And now I have to go. Hope to see you and Clarke at the pub in the near future.”

“Yeah, definitely. Take care.”

She watched her walk to her SUV, thinking that she really could be Regina Mills’ double.

Raven joined her on the porch and Lexa gave her a one-arm hug around her shoulders.

“Thanks, Raves.”

“Any time. And you seem to be okay with all this help that you generally have a hard time asking for.”

“Maybe I just can’t say no to you.”

“Aww. Don’t worry. Many have tried, and failed.”

She laughed and gave her another squeeze. “Also, Octavia gave one of those beers to Lincoln and the other to Jasper. She’s sticking with sparkling water.”

“Good. Because I was going to be really bummed that our theory about her was wrong. Although I guess she could have some other health issue.”

“I don’t think so. She’d tell us if she had something like that going on that wasn’t pregnancy-related.”

“I hope she would. Clarke thinks she’ll be announcing soon, as long as everything is okay.”

“Depending on when she found out for sure she was pregnant—and again, evidence is still circumstantial—that could be soon.”

“We’re gonna be aunties,” Raven said, almost giggling, and leaned into her, since Lexa’s arm was still around her shoulders. “You’ll make a great one.”

“So will you.”

“Hell, we can all be parents for this kid.”

Lexa smiled. “Kinda makes me feel way too adult, thinking about being a parent for anybody’s kid.”

“Whatever,” Raven said. “You’ll be great at it, no matter whose kid.”

The front door opened and Harper leaned out. “Burgers are up. Anya wants to know what kind of cheese you want, Raven. Clarke has about ninety kinds.”

“Clarke the cheese-meister,” Raven said with a mock long-suffering sigh as she went inside.

Harper stepped outside with Lexa. “How’re you doing?”

“Good. Tired, but feeling really good.”

“It’s kind of an adjustment, a move like this.” Harper put her hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt and they stood in silence for a while, side-by-side, staring out at the street.

“The logistics were stressful. Everything else, though, was perfect. And thank you so much for helping me today.”

Harper smiled. “It was a ploy. Monty and I wanted to see the new digs. And for the record, we approve.”

“Well, just know that you have another place to crash in Polis if you need it.”

“Cool. And also for the record, it’s really good to see you two together.”

“It feels really good.” She sighed, happy. “Fuck, it’s…amazing. I’ve got it bad for her.”

She laughed. “I think you always did.”

“Maybe so.” She thought about the first time she had met Clarke, and about the warmth and mischief in her eyes. And hell yes, she had checked her out. Who wouldn’t? Clarke was a beautiful woman who exuded life and exuberance and a streak of stubborn that Lexa found maddening at first and then endearing. All of that she got in their first meeting and when she had gone to class, she couldn’t stop thinking about her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting was a prelude to something, and that Clarke was going to play a role in her life.

“Hell, you’re right,” Lexa said. “I think I might have had a thing for her since the beginning.” She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and her fingers hit the extra set of keys to her house she’d had made the day before. She had totally forgotten to give them to Clarke that morning.

“She did for you, too.”

“You think?”

Harper snorted. “Please. Clarke keeps a lot of things bottled up, but she lights up around you. She always has.” Harper rocked forward on her feet, then back. “I met you at one of Bellamy’s parties. Clarke dragged you over—do you remember that?”

“Yeah. She said you were cool and Captain Steady.”

“Oh, God. Clarke and her Captain Whatever nicknames.” She smiled again. “I knew who you were before Clarke introduced you because she’d been talking about you since she had met you, and the way she was around you that night was how she looked when she was telling me about you before the party. She tried to hide it, but we all saw it.” She shoulder-bumped her. “You didn’t see it. Or maybe you thought you weren’t good enough for her. But that night I met you, I could tell you felt something for her a lot deeper than just friends.”

“I don’t think I realized it yet,” she said softly. But she sure as hell did, now, and it seemed the keys were burning a hole in her pocket and maybe she should have been way more nervous about giving them to Clarke, but she wasn’t.

“Neither of you did. And when you both started to realize that there was the potential for more, I think you both got scared because neither of you wanted to ruin the friendship you’d created.”

“Yep. That’s about it.”

“I think if something had happened sooner, you both would have figured it out and even if it was too early and didn’t work out at first, I think you would have found your way back to each other.”

“It seems, though, that things worked out exactly like they were supposed to.”

“Yeah. And it is _so_ great to see it. I’m really happy for you both.”

“Thanks.” She paused. “I’m really serious about her.”

“I’m glad.”

She turned toward Harper. “I keep thinking that should freak me out, but it doesn’t.”

“That’s because you’re good together.”

“Is it like that with you and Monty?”

Harper smiled and it lit up her face. “Yes. He’s my person and I can’t imagine life without him.” She shrugged. “We have our issues—every relationship does—but I know that no matter what happens, he has my back and he knows I have his. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise.”

“Good point.”

“Not that you have to get married to prove that point. It just felt like something we wanted to do.”

“Kind of funny, how Polis crew has created so many relationships.”

“Right? We’re one big family, ultimately, and that’s what matters.”

She was about to respond when she heard the front door open and she turned and God, her heart did a little flip at seeing Clarke framed in the doorway. She was holding a paper plate with a burger.

“I’m gonna get something to eat,” Harper said, trying to sound innocent, and she went into the house.

“Hey,” Clarke said and God, her smile. She held the plate up. “Hungry?”

 _So_ hungry, but her thoughts definitely didn’t involve burgers.

“Sure.” She went inside, too, and Clarke closed the door then pulled her into a kiss with her free hand.

“Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great. I was just soaking up the neighborhood. Still hard to believe I’m here.”

“And I fucking love that you are.” Clarke handed her the plate. “This has gouda.”

“Yum.”

She chuckled. “Want a beer?”

“Yeah.” And she let Clarke lead her to the kitchen, where somebody had set up a burger bar on one of the counters, but her burger was already perfect because Clarke knew what she liked and had prepared it that way. Bellamy was trying to stack tomato onto double patties and Jasper was munching on a pickle as he bantered with Monty, Raven, and Harper. Echo and Niylah were looking at something on Niylah’s phone and out back, Lincoln and Murphy were standing at the grill talking to Anya and Octavia.

Lexa took a bite of her burger and God, it was good. Echo handed her a big bag of potato chips and she poured some onto her plate then handed the bag to Jasper and took another bite. “God, this is so good,” she said.

“Right?” Jasper poured chips onto his own plate. “Lincoln and O make the best burgers.”

Clarke brought a can of beer to her and Lexa opened it and sipped, thinking about her first barbecue with Polis crew, at Lincoln’s place, long before he and Octavia hooked up. Even then, the vibe had been fun and friendly, and she realized that Polis crew was absorbing her, and she let it, because she liked how it felt, to belong to a group of people that felt like the kind of extended family she had always wanted. She watched as Clarke got a burger for herself, and God, this was a perfect day.

“Do you want another one?” Clarke asked as Lexa finished her own burger.

“Nah. But I will take a brownie.”

“You’d better. Niylah brought them.”

“Oh, shit. Let’s take a bunch and hide them.”

Clarke laughed and kissed her, which earned them an “awww” from Echo.

“Everyone,” Bellamy said from the other side of the kitchen, raising his voice. “Hey.”

The chatter died down as everyone looked at him.

“I want to propose a toast.” He raised his can of beer. “To Lexa, who got sucked right back into Polis.”

Laughter rippled around the room.

“And to Lexa and Clarke, who _finally_ figured out what the rest of us have known since college.” He smiled. “You make a great couple.”

A chorus of “hell, yes” broke out and Jasper started chanting “speech, speech, speech,” at Lexa.

“Yeah, speech,” Murphy echoed.

Clarke nudged her and squeezed her hand.

“Speech,” Monty repeated.

“All right,” Lexa said, and the noise died down again. She looked around the room. “You’re the best. All of you. I was just thinking that I’m so lucky to be part of this group, because you took me in and made me feel welcome.” She paused. “And you’re family.”

“Damn right,” Jasper said and he raised his beer at her amidst a round of laughter and cheers.

She took Clarke’s hand. “And I love that you’re all here putting all these good vibes into this house. Thank you so much for everything.”

“Hell, yes.” That was Lincoln, and he pulled her into a quick hug. “So glad you’re back among us.”

“Seconded,” Octavia said and she gave her a hug, too.

“And we’re so glad you have this awesome house,” Murphy said. “Because hello, parties.”

“Amen.” Jasper high-fived him.

Lexa laughed. “I had that in mind, you know. Guest room.”

Jasper and Murphy high-fived again and laughter and conversation flowed and holy fuck, the brownies were amazing and it felt like a party from the past. Except this time, the glances she shared with Clarke were weighted with possibility, and their touches lingered in acknowledgement of how things had shifted.

An hour later, with afternoon sinking into evening, clean-up started and a half-hour later, it was done, except for the grill, which Lexa told Lincoln to leave for now, since it was still warm. Then began the rounds of goodbye hugs and teasing and plans to get together again until the last car pulled away from the curb and Lexa watched it from the doorway with Clarke, and then she shut the door and automatically locked it, a habit from her years in New York.

“So that was fun,” Clarke said, caressing her face. “How are you doing?”

She leaned into her touch. “A little tired, but this was really great. Thank you.”

“It was a joint effort. Pretty much everybody seemed to just decide we wanted to get you unloaded as soon as you got here so you wouldn’t have to worry about it. It kind of grew organically from Harper asking when you were planning to unload the pod.”

“And I so appreciate it.”

“Does this mean you’re getting over your fear of asking for help?”

“I’m not afraid to ask for help.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just that thing I have about being a burden.” She shrugged. “Working on it.”

“I know. So do you want to unpack a little bit? Get some essentials out?”

“Probably a good idea. Or we could just go to your house. It’s a pain in the ass when nothing’s set up.”

“It’s fine. Just tell me what you want unpacked first.”

“Upstairs bathroom. I have a box of shampoo and soap and stuff. Oh, and there’s toothpaste and toothbrushes in there. Just get that out. There’s also a box of towels. That should be fine for tonight. I mean, if you really want to stay.”

“I do.” She kissed her. “And the sooner we get a few things out and ready to go, the sooner we can—I don’t know. Try out your bed.” She gave her one of her sexy little smirks and Lexa was ready to try a lot of things out right then. “I’ll go deal with the upstairs bathroom,” Clarke added.

She forced her focus back to doing some organization. “Okay. I’m going to unpack a few things in the kitchen.” She watched as she ascended the stairs before she went to the kitchen, and Anya had been so right, that Clarke was the only thing she really needed in this house.

The crew had done a nice job of cleaning up, so Lexa unpacked essentials. A few cups and plates, coffee maker, and a few utensils. Deb had hired a cleaning service after the workers had finished, and they’d done a good job, which saved Lexa having to do it. Someone had brought paper towels today while someone else had brought packages of toilet paper for the two bathrooms as well as bottles of liquid hand soap. A roll of paper towels had been serving as hand towels there, and she made a mental note to bring a set of towels down.

Two full trash bags sat next to the back door, one filled with cans and plastic bottles and the other with basic trash. She tied them closed, making another mental note that she needed recycling bins and waste baskets.

She stepped out back, and the floodlight lit it up. Lincoln had made sure that the propane for the grill was turned off, and it was cool, now, so she put the cover over it then stood, looking out across the back yard. A couple of wooden steps led off the deck to the grass and to her left she could see the roof of the garage and she envisioned adding another story to it, with skylights.

The door opened behind her.

“I’m turning this light off,” Clarke said, and she did then closed the door as she joined Lexa on the deck. She had taken her hat off and she slid her arms around Lexa’s waist and pressed against her back. Lexa rested her hands over Clarke’s and stared up at the sky and the first visible stars. God, she could do this forever.

“That light might need a makeover,” Lexa said.

“Might?” Clarke scoffed. “It’s like an Alcatraz light or something. Which is okay over the garage, but not so much here.”

“There’s already a motion detector light over the garage.”

“Which is great. Do you have one on the front of the house?”

“Yeah. It’s angled toward the street. And don’t we sound all mundane, talking about this?”

She chuckled. “Not like we’ve never talked about stuff like that. We’ve helped each other move before. And other Polis crew. Remember when we helped move O and Lincoln into their house and we helped paint?”

“And we did a damn good job, because that paint still looks good.”

“Damn right it does.”

Lexa traced the backs of Clarke’s hands with her fingers. “Speaking of O and Lincoln, I’m pretty sure you’re right about her, based on my observations.”

“Mmm. I love it when you have those.” She kissed her neck and chills shot down her back.

“That’s not helping me share them.”

“How come?” She gently nipped her earlobe.

“Uh…”

Clarke laughed, a low, sultry sound. “Come inside and tell me. It’s getting cold.” She released her but held on to her hand and pulled her toward the door and once they were in, Lexa locked the door then gave Clarke the run-down of her interactions with Octavia while she prepped coffee. Decaf, which she had bought the day before after she had helped Clarke at the gallery.

“And she definitely wasn’t drinking alcohol,” Clarke said, brow furrowed in thought.

“Nope.”

“Plus her iron’s off and she’s on supplements.” Clarke leaned back against the counter near Lexa.

“Oh, and that weird bit with the granola bar. O loves the kind I got, usually. Not today.”

“Hormonal shifts in pregnancy change your tastes.”

“She was still into the string cheese, though.” Which reminded her to take the wrapper from her back pocket and throw it away.

“Good. Protein and calcium.”

“And you’re right about her energy. It’s different. And the vibe between her and Lincoln is different, too.”

“Right? I can’t describe it, but the two of them are…I don’t know. Glowing together or some shit.”

Lexa laughed. “Glowing together is my new favorite thing.”

“But it’s true. Cisdudes experience some hormone weirdness during a partner’s pregnancy. Studies show that they also can have some postpartum depression.”

“I’m thinking that could be true for someone whose partner is pregnant regardless of sex or gender. It’s just a wild hormonal time.” She got the carton of half-and-half out of the fridge and set it next to the coffee maker.

“Wild hormonal time should be the name of a music festival,” Clarke said as she poured half-and-half into each cup.

“I’d go. For the T-shirt if nothing else.” She brushed Clarke’s hair out of her eyes and kissed her. “I love that you still have that baseball cap,” she said softly.

“It’s my all-time favorite hat.” She rested her arms on Lexa’s shoulders and gently stroked the back of her neck with her fingers.

“All these years.”

“I wear it a lot when I’m painting.”

Lexa studied her eyes. “Really?”

“Yep. I was wearing it when I did the tower painting you bought.”

“Which makes me even more glad that I gave that hat to you. And that painting is going upstairs in the room I’m using as my office.”

Clarke smiled. “I’ll bring it over. Let me know when.”

“Or…” Lexa took the set of keys out of her pocket. She had put them on a keychain with the Batwoman logo. “You can bring it over when you have time, even if I’m not here.”

Clarke stared at the keys, then at her. “What—”

“My space is your space. I want you in it every chance we get, and these might help with that.”

She took the keys like they were a precious object and kissed her then pulled away and wiped her eyes with the tail of her flannel shirt. "When did you do this?"

Lexa kissed her cheek. “I had them made yesterday after I had lunch with Tristan. And then you distracted me last night and this morning so I didn’t get a chance to give them to you then. And today was busy, with other stuff. Though you’re still really distracting.” She gently brushed a tear off Clarke’s cheek.

“I don’t know why I’m crying. All this talk of hormones, maybe.”

She chuckled and hugged her. “I just really needed you to have keys to this place. I’ve spent years wanting you close, and now here we are, and I like knowing that you have keys.”

“And that’s why I’m crying, because you say things like that.”

“As long as it’s because you’re happy.”

“ _So_ happy.” And then she kissed her and it escalated quickly into a makeout session that made Lexa’s heart pound and she was already so wet and ready and she moved her hands to the button on Clarke’s jeans and unfastened them then worked the zipper down, which earned her a low growl against her mouth and _God_ that was hot.

There was nothing slow or deliberate about her next movements, which involved bracing one of her hands at the small of Clarke’s back and slipping the other inside her underwear.

“I want to make you feel good,” Lexa whispered.

“God, yes.”

She gently stroked at first, the motion a contrast to their hard, almost desperate kisses. “I love how wet you are,” she said, breathing heavily, fingers gliding through Clarke’s folds, and fuck, her own arousal was pounding her clit and core.

“Show me how much you love it.” She slid her tongue into Lexa’s mouth and a moment later Lexa managed to slip a finger into Clarke’s pussy and they both groaned. Lexa used her other hand to work Clarke’s jeans off her hips to give her more room and she began thrusting harder, heat and sweat building between them. Clarke’s hands were all over Lexa’s back, ass, shoulders, and breasts and Lexa’s hand was coated with her, fingers enveloped, and she shifted her position so Clarke could press against her thumb as she worked her clit.

“I want to make you come,” Lexa said.

“I love it when you say things like that to me—oh, God. Fuck.” She shifted her position a little and pushed harder against Lexa’s hand.

“I’m so wet right now.” Lexa squeezed her ass with her free hand, and used it to help guide Clarke’s thrusts. “Does it turn you on knowing that?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

“Does it make you want to come, knowing that I’m so fucking ready for you to taste me?”

“Oh, God—” she tensed and her fingers dug into Lexa’s shoulders and Lexa knew exactly what she needed, knew that sometimes she liked it hard and fast so that’s what she did, and Clarke’s breathing accelerated, hard and deep, and the noises she was making—Lexa would not be surprised if she came, too.

“Lexa,” she said, accented with a long, low groan and Lexa felt her tremors on her fingers and tightened her hold on her with her free arm, bringing her closer as she shuddered, gasped, then sagged and Lexa leaned back against the counter so she could fully support her weight while her hand was still occupied.

There they stood, forehead to forehead, breathing starting to slow, Lexa’s tee under her sweatshirt clinging to her back.

“Holy fucking hell,” Clarke finally said after a while. She cupped Lexa’s cheek with one of her hands and gently kissed her.

“Definitely something about you and kitchens,” Lexa murmured against her mouth and Clarke grinned.

“Something about _us_ and kitchens. And I had this idea that we could watch movies that I downloaded onto my laptop, but all I want to do is…” she unbuttoned Lexa’s jeans and pushed them down her thighs. “Take your shoes off,” she said, still slowly kissing her and Lexa managed to work her sneakers off just using her feet and once she was done, Clarke pushed her jeans down farther, then did the same with her underwear until both were pooled around Lexa’s ankles and oh, Jesus, Clarke kneeled in front of her.

Clarke looked up at her and smirked. “Hang on,” she said, and Lexa barely had time to do that before Clarke started exploring her folds with her tongue and then she put one of Lexa’s legs over her shoulder.

“Mmm. So wet,” Clarke said. “Makes me hot.”

“Fuck,” Lexa managed with a gasp as Clarke worked her over with her tongue and then her fingers and everything was sensation and desire.

“I love the way you taste,” Clarke said. “Especially when you come.”

Oh, God. Clarke talking dirty only made her that much wetter and hotter and she groaned and closed her eyes as everything deep within wound tighter and tighter and she had one of her hands against the back of Clarke’s head, holding her in place while with her other hand she gripped the counter’s edge and she was thrusting against her and oh…God…she unraveled, saying Clarke’s name with a long, guttural moan.

Lexa gripped the counter’s edge with both hands now, trying to catch her breath but Clarke hadn’t stopped, only slowed down, and her grip on her ass and the tip of her tongue on her clit—she tensed and came again and this time barely managed to hold herself up.

Clarke slowly licked the insides of her thighs, a soft, gentle clean-up and then she was holding her and Lexa buried her face in her neck, sparks still bouncing down her legs.

“So…can we do that again?”

Clarke laughed. “Definitely. Though I guess the kitchen’s been broken in.”

She kissed her neck. “There are plenty of other rooms in this house to try out. And in yours.”

“Good point.”

Lexa extricated herself and put her underwear and jeans back on and Clarke frowned, clearly disappointed.

“Don’t worry,” Lexa said. “I just want you to undress me again.” She arched an eyebrow and poured coffee into the two cups and handed one to Clarke. “So maybe we should check out my bedroom next.”

Clarke smiled, slow and sultry. “Let’s,” she said, and from the expression in her eyes, Lexa knew this was going to be a long night.

And, oh, she was more than ready for it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG do you think they're right about Octavia? If so, that kid is going to have so many awesome aunts and uncles. Polis crew for the WIN!
> 
> And yes. Moar fluff. Because Clexa. Thanks so much for hanging out with me during this nutty project. :)
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/andimarquette) and [Tumblr](http://www.andimarquette.tumblr.com).


	18. Making the Whole Year Our Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia, school art show, and then a Clexa dinner. Complete and utter fluff.

Clarke studied the painting, absently toying with the necklace Lexa had bought her. “Move it a little to the right—yeah. Perfect.”

Sophia stepped back from the frame she had been adjusting and Clarke checked the positioning of the other winners’ artwork next to it. She’d donated almost a full wall, and the next day she was having an open house for the artists and their families.

“What do you think?” Clarke asked.

Both Sophia and Willow stood looking at the art, then they both walked slowly up and back. Willow backed up to the opposite wall.

“I love it,” she said, hands on her hips. She was doing a retro artist look today, with baggy overalls rolled up to expose a pair of maroon Doc Martens. She also wore a light blue thermal long-sleeved shirt that had little whales on it.

“So do I.” Sophia was wearing slim jeans and a red cable-knit sweater. She was always the more conservatively dressed of the two of them.

“What about the name tags?”

Sophia nodded. “Big enough to be seen, but not so big that it looks weird. Plus everybody’s going to be taking photos with their phones and they can enlarge on screen.”

“How meta,” Clarke said with a smile. “Photographing other art.”

Both Willow and Sophia laughed.

“Let’s mess around with the lighting, now. Remember that it’s going to be at one tomorrow, so we’ll get lots of natural light from the front windows and might not need too much inside, but—” she glanced at her phone. “It’s almost two-thirty now and it seems like we need some more light.”

“What about that?” Sophia asked from the back of the room, where she was standing at the control panel for the various lights.

“Yeah, that’s good. I don’t want overall glare, so let’s monitor and see what we come up with.”

“What about—” Willow lowered the shade a little on the front window closest to the wall with the school art.

Clarke stepped back from the wall and stared at the top row, about six feet above the floor. “Yeah, that cuts the glare from outside a bit. Let’s keep an eye on that for tomorrow.”

She looked over at the door as it opened.

“Hey,” Octavia said. “How’s it going?” She was dressed in baggy jeans, a gray sweatshirt, and a battered leather jacket that looked like it might have been Lincoln’s.

“Great,” Clarke said as she gave her a quick hug. “What do you think?” She nodded toward the wall.

“It looks good. And I see your point, about having more winners and runner-ups. You’ve been getting a lot of good press for being a champion of art for kids and young people.” She held up the local weekly, probably one of the only papers in the region that was still popular in that format.

“Oh, wow,” Clarke said.

“You and your gallery on the cover.” Octavia grinned. “The big time, Griff.”

Clarke took it. “Did this just come out?”

“Yeah. They dropped the ones off at the pub about thirty minutes ago.”

“It’s online, too,” Willow announced. “Photos and all. Hold that up.” Clarke did and Willow took a photo. “Putting it on the gallery Instagram and tagging you and Sophia,” she said.

“Thanks.” Clarke looked at Octavia. “Want something to drink? I’ve got a bunch of fizzy water.”

“Sure. Berry.”

“Come on back.” She went into the back storage area to the apartment-sized fridge and took a can of sparkling water out and handed it to Octavia. “Thanks for bringing this.” She held up the paper.

“They clearly haven’t arrived yet with your copies. The story’s great. You do a good interview, famous artist.”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “It’s not about me. It’s about the kids and their art.”

“And that comes through loud and clear. Are you going to have press here tomorrow?”

“Polis Weekly at least,” she glanced at the paper again. “They want a follow-up, to see all the kids and their friends and families with the art. Local TV news might swing by. They covered the art show, so they might want to do a feel-good local interest story about the kids seeing their art in a gallery. I’m just a backdrop for that, because this is actually all about them.” She went back into the main room, Octavia following.

“Are you headed back to the pub?” Clarke asked

“In a bit. Mind if I chill out here for a bit?”

Clarke gave her a puzzled look. “Sure. Everything okay?”

“Fine.” She didn’t elaborate and instead went to sit on one of the chairs behind the counter. “Just carry on with your Clarke self.”

“Okay. There’s some yogurt in the fridge, too, if you want some.”

“Thanks.” She took out her phone and checked it and Clarke went back to experimenting with lighting with Willow and Sophia until three, when she told them both to leave since it was Friday and she’d see them tomorrow.

“Thanks, Clarke. Do you need anything else tomorrow?” Willow asked as she picked up her bag.

“No, but if you think of anything and you want to run it by me, just text.”

She gave her a thumbs-up and left, Sophia right behind her.

“See you tomorrow,” Sophia said as she waved before she opened the front door.

Clarke waved back and returned to the counter, where Octavia was standing near the computer screen, looking at a paper list Clarke had left out.

“This is cute food.”

“Glad you think so. We wanted them to get a sense of an art opening, so we’re doing cheese and meat trays, but no alcohol, since these artists are all underage. Fizzy water all around.”

“You know what else might be fun?” Octavia looked up at her. “Goldfish crackers. You can get them in different colors and somebody’s super-young sister or brother might like those.”

“Good idea. I’ll get some on the way home. Will you be able to come tomorrow?”

“Yep. Lincoln and I are planning on stopping by because this is a really cool thing to be doing for kids. And high school students.”

“It’s important to encourage young people to engage with art, whatever form that takes in their worlds. Everybody needs a creative outlet.”

Octavia nodded. “So where’s Lexa today?”

“Working from home.”

“Nice. Which means you’ll get to see her soon.” She smirked. “Seems Clexa is going well.”

She smiled. “Very.”

“Has she finished unpacking?”

“Pretty much. You know how she is. She gets focused on something and gets it done. She’s not used to having so much space, so she’s wondering if she should buy more things to fill it or just let it be for a while.”

Octavia chuckled. “I say let it evolve. That’s what Lincoln and I did when we first moved into our house. We weren’t sure how we wanted things to work and what we wanted to use the space for. So we’ve been kind of growing into it.”

“I told Lexa that, and that she doesn’t have to make any major furnishing decisions right away. After all, she might decide to move after a year.” Clarke shrugged.

She smirked. “Yeah, like, move in with you.”

“Um.” A blush heated her neck.

“Oh, so the thought occurred to you,” she teased.

“Maybe. But it’s too soon. That’s a big decision.”

“It’s not like you haven’t known each other very long. You’ve been friends for years. And fuck, when the two of you are around each other, it’s like two pieces of a puzzle. You fit perfectly.”

“Okay, that might be one of the most romantic things I’ve heard from you,” she teased back.

“It’s true. And I’m cynical about a lot of things, but not this.”

“Though you no doubt were at first.” Clarke set the tablet down that she’d been checking figures on.

“A little.”

“I know. It’s how you are.”

“I was worried that maybe things wouldn’t work out between you and Lexa and that would have repercussions through Polis crew.”

Clarke gave her all her attention. “I had a feeling you felt that way, but you hid it well. And I had those thoughts too, all the way up to when I finally told her how I felt. Because I don’t want to lose her, and I didn’t want things to be weird between us if she didn’t feel the same way. And I didn’t want things to be weird among the rest of us if she didn’t.” She regarded Octavia for a moment. “Don’t think I went into this as a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“I never thought that. You’ve had great chemistry with her for years. But it’s different when it’s actually happening, and yeah, I was a little uneasy.”

“And now?”

She smiled. “Nope. You’re perfect for each other. And even if down the line you decide that you’re not, you’ll be able to stay friends. There’s too much care between you not to do that.”

Clarke smiled back. “I don’t like thinking that I won’t be with her down the line, but if on the off-chance that happens, I plan to keep her in my life somehow.”

Octavia stood up and joined her at the counter. “Sounds pretty serious,” she said, surprise in her eyes.

“I feel like it is. But right now, we’re just enjoying that she’s back in Polis and settling into a more permanent place in the DC office. It’s just been so great having her right there, you know? Right around the corner. I can see her practically every day. I’m so lucky.”

“So is she,” Octavia said.

She gave her a look. “Is that you saying I’m kind of awesome?”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay, maybe it is. You and I have butted heads over the years about a lot of stuff, but ultimately, you’re a hell of a woman, and you’re loyal to your friends and to your mom and you have our backs no matter what.” She gave her a look. “I may not always agree with your methods, but ultimately, your motives are solid.”

“Wow. So is this deep Octavia?” She poked her in the arm.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

“I kinda like her.” Clarke gave her a side hug. “Want some tea or is the fizzy water okay still?”

She was about to respond when the door opened and Lexa came in, wearing her “work from home clothes,” which were jeans and a light jacket over a sweatshirt. The weather was reasonably nice, so she had sneakers on and she must not have had any teleconferences because she wore nice button-downs for those. But it didn’t matter what she was wearing or not wearing. She was beautiful and Clarke stared at her.

“Hey, Woods,” Octavia said. “We were just talking about you.”

“Something good, I hope,” she said as she approached the counter with a grin that lit up her features.

“It involved Griffin’s heart eyes over you.” Octavia poked Clarke back.

“Oh?”

Clarke shrugged. “Not gonna deny it.” Her heart seemed to be doing backflips in her chest.

Lexa came around the counter. “I’m in the same situation. Hi,” she said to Clarke then gave her a quick kiss.

“Hi, back.” Clarke pulled her into a longer kiss and Octavia made a gagging sound but she laughed, too. “Are you done for the day?” Clarke asked, staring into Lexa’s eyes.

“Yes, fortunately.” She kissed the tip of her nose then turned to Octavia. “How’s it going, O? Making sure Clarke gets shit done?” She gave her a quick hug.

“Nah. Willow and Sophia were keeping her in line. I just stopped by for free drinks.” She held up her can of sparkling water. “And I’m actually glad you’re here, too, Woods, because I wanted to tell you both something.”

“Okay,” Clarke said, cautious, sharing a glance with Lexa. “What’s up?”

“Well…” she hesitated, but she was smiling. “Fuck, I’ll just say it. I’m pregnant.”

Clarke stared at her for a moment. “Fuck, _yes_ ,” she practically shouted as she hugged her and Lexa was laughing and fist-pumping and then she hugged them both and the three of them jumped up and down together.

“Holy shit, that is _great_ ,” Clarke finally said.

“This is awesome news." Lexa did another fist pump.

“How far along?” Clarke asked.

“I’m coming up on fourteen weeks.”

“Excellent.” Clarke gave her another hug. “Who else have you told?”

“Lincoln’s parents and brother and Bellamy.”

“What? We’re the first of Polis crew outside Lincoln? Besides Bellamy?” Lexa raised her eyebrows. “For real?”

“Yes. But I’m thinking you both figured it out before this.”

Clarke exchanged another glance with Lexa and they both smiled. “We had our suspicions.”

“I thought so. Nursemaid Lexa tipped me off at the pod party with the string cheese incident, telling me to sit down and rest and getting me a snack and drink like I’m some Victorian lady with the vapors.”

Lexa gave her another hug, too. “Oh, yeah. Exactly like that. You totally had the vapors.”

“The only vapors you’ve ever had came from too many nachos at Brewster’s,” Clarke said. “And you subjected all of us to _those_ vapors.”

“One time,” Octavia said, laughing.

“At least three,” Lexa clarified, also laughing.

“Whatever. Anyway, Clarke tipped me off today because she didn’t offer me coffee.” She held up her can of sparkling water. So when did you guess?”

“About the time Lexa moved back, I put a few things together.”

“Clearly.”

“How are you feeling?” Lexa asked.

“It hasn’t been too bad. Morning sickness a few times a week, but it’s manageable. Really tired. That’s been weird and it pisses me off because I’m not used to it. Oh, and my appetite is for shit, but Lincoln’s got me able to eat small meals and snacks throughout the day, which actually helps with the nausea.”

Clarke nodded, sympathetic. “How is he?”

“He’s really stoked but also worried about me, so he checks in even more and fuck, the hormone shifts are so goddamn weird and I’m a raging bitch one minute then crying the next then Mary Sunshine.” She sighed.

“All of that is normal, from my extremely limited experience with actual pregnancy but I do have some knowledge about it through the mom factor and good classes in college.” Clarke squeezed Octavia’s hand. “If that’s any consolation.”

“It is, actually, even though we’ve been reading up on it and talking to the doc all the time.” Her expression softened. “Lincoln is going above and beyond. He’s been so cute.”

"Oh, my God, you two are going to make awesome parents,” Clarke said. “And when are you going to announce this to the rest of Polis crew?”

“Maybe…right now.” Octavia took her phone out of her jeans pocket.

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “Are you ready for it to blow up?”

She stopped. “Good point.”

“Why don’t you let Polis crew know when you’re with Lincoln?” Lexa said. “That way you’ll have backup because you know how exhausting this group can be.”

Octavia smiled. “One of our more endearing traits. And this whole freak farm will make the best honorary aunts and uncles any kid could ever want.”

“Damn right,” Clarke said. “So can we have another barbecue to celebrate this news?”

Lexa grinned. “That’s a great idea.”

“My house.” She gave Lexa a kiss. “Lexa hosted the last one. And we’ll have it early in the afternoon so we don’t wear you out.”

“I can still kick your ass, Griffin.”

She laughed. “Whatever. So are you down with another barbecue?”

“Yes. But can we wait until next month?”

“Sure. How about the first weekend in April?”

“That should be okay.”

“I’ll send out an invite, so don’t worry about it,” Lexa said.

“She tends to be the more organized of the two of us.” Clarke smiled with affection and gave her another kiss.

“Like we didn’t know,” Octavia teased. “And now I have to get back to the pub.”

“Want me to walk with you?" Lexa gave her a look. "Be honest.”

She smiled. “I’m fine. I drove. And I need to make a couple of stops on the way.” She picked up her jacket. “And one of those is to the bathroom. Be right back.” She left and Clarke directed her full attention to Lexa.

“We’re totally the Scooby team because we figured it out.”

Lexa grinned and kissed her and Clarke melted against her. “And we now have our next Halloween costume.”

“Fuck, you might be right. Jasper could be Shaggy. You should be Thelma.”

“And you?”

“Fred. Duh.”

She chuckled. “I would pay money to see that.”

“Mmm. How was your day? More details.”

“The usual. Email, phone calls, lawyer stuff, staring at photos of you on my phone, then more email and lawyer stuff.”

“So you’re saying I was at work with you?”

“You’re always at work with me.” She put her palm over her heart and Clarke lost her ability to speak but it was fine because Lexa kissed her again then pulled away, her eyes full of a certain look she reserved just for her.

“I really need you to come home with me after this,” Clarke said softly.

“Done.” She smirked and took her hand and pulled her out from behind the counter. “The student art looks _great_ ,” she said with a gesture toward the wall. “Are you good with snacks for tomorrow and everything?”

“O suggested goldfish crackers, so I’ll need to get some on my way home.”

“Okay, you can stop with the PDA,” Octavia said as she emerged from the bathroom.

“Damn. You missed it. But here.” Clarke pulled Lexa into a kiss.

“Stop. You’ll give me the vapors.”

“Only Brewster’s nachos can do that,” Clarke said as she and Lexa walked her to the front door.

“ _One_ time.”

“Three,” Lexa said.

“Jesus. Whatever.” Octavia opened the door but Clarke stopped her.

“Seriously. Congratulations and thanks for letting us know.”

“Yeah. Lots of love to you and Lincoln and we are all here for you.” Lexa gave her another hug.

“God, you’re both going to make me cry.”

Clarke grinned. “That’s just hormones. Don’t worry about it.”

Octavia smacked her lightly on the arm. “See you tomorrow. Are you going to the open house?” she asked Lexa.

“Yep.”

“Good. Then we’ll see you both.” She opened the door and left.

“We’re going to be aunts,” Lexa said a few moments later.

“Yeah.” Clarke slid her arms around her waist and rested her head on her shoulder, glad she was here, reveling for the millionth time in the fact that she now lived in Polis.

“Think we’re up to it?”

“Hell, yes.”

They didn’t say anything for a while, but that was more than okay.

“Do you want me to pick up the goldfish crackers?” Lexa asked.

“Did you drive?”

“No. I can go home, though, and get my car.”

“Mine’s parked around the corner. Come with me to the store and then we can order take-out. Unless you feel like cooking.”

“Take-out sounds awesome. Do you want Italian? We can call in an order to Fratelli’s right now and pick it up on the way home from the store.”

“Let’s.” And Clarke loved that Lexa used “home” to refer to the place they would both be going and she thought about Octavia teasing her about Lexa moving in with her and fuck, was it that far-fetched?

“What Fratelli’s goodness do you want?”

She pulled away, reluctantly, but the sooner they got to the store, the sooner they could pick up dinner and then be at her house together. “Definitely some of their garlic knots and…spinach ravioli.”

“Yum.” Lexa took her phone out.

“While you do that, I’m going to shut this bitch down.”

“It’s kinda hot when you talk like that.”

“Stick around for more.” She winked and went back to the counter and made sure everything was taken care of and then she turned off the lights, Lexa’s voice as she ordered following her through the gallery and fuck, she would never get tired of hearing her.

“Done,” Lexa said.

“Okay. Turning on the alarm.” Clarke put her coat on, grabbed her bag, then punched in the code and joined Lexa at the front. She opened the door and waited for Clarke to lock up then took her hand and they walked to Clarke’s car, chatting and bantering and Clarke leaned into her, enjoying the moment and her presence.

“So your day was really okay?”

“It was. I’m really liking working from home when I can. Especially since I can maybe knock off a little early and go to a certain gallery owned by a certain woman.”

“Huh. And who exactly is this woman?” Clarke asked as she opened her car with her key fob and put her bag in the back seat.

Lexa leaned in for a quick kiss. “She’s the best thing that’s happened to me,” she said softly and Clarke promptly got lost in her eyes. Again. She grabbed the front of Lexa’s jacket and kissed her again then leaned her forehead against hers and stroked her cheek.

“Well, I know a woman who lives three blocks from me who’s pretty special.”

“How special?”

“Very.” Clarke kissed her forehead. “She’s my everything.”

The expression in Lexa’s eyes went right to her heart. “How about we go the grocery store, pick up dinner, and go home?”

“That’s a big hell yes from me.”

Lexa raised an eyebrow and blessed her with one of her sexy smirks before she went around to the passenger side and Clarke knew exactly what that smirk meant.

And she couldn’t wait.

She got in and started the engine.

###

 

“That is legit one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen,” Lincoln said.

“Aww. That’s _such_ a future dad thing to say.” Lexa handed him a small paper cup that she had just filled with goldfish crackers and his smile got even more goofy.

“I mean—look at that.” He gestured at two girls who were standing next to the winning painting of the third-grade division and they were holding their arms out to frame it in the area their arms created while their respective parents took photos.

“That’s going to be you, soon. A gazillion photos of your kid at her first art show.”

“That is _so_ going to be me. Octavia will be all, ‘dude, what are you even doing? You already filled up one memory card at this event’ and I’ll be all, ‘that’s why I brought three’.”

Lexa laughed and fist-bumped him. They had both worn black trousers and button-down dress shirts, but Lincoln’s was light grey while Lexa’s was a creamy white. She had worn a black vest, too, and black wingtips and Clarke’s expression when she showed up at the gallery was well worth the effort she’d put into the outfit.

“And I don’t care what flavor my kid is,” Lincoln said, “or how they identify. I just want them to be happy and healthy and to go out and kick the world’s ass.”

“You and O are going to be great parents.” She picked through her own cup of goldfish crackers and pulled out a magenta one and ate it before she thought too hard about what kind of dye went into making it that color. Or maybe Pepperidge Farm was using plant dyes. She should have read the damn label.

“Thanks. I hope so. I really want to be.” He held up a green cracker. “Cute, these rainbow goldfish. Kids love weird-looking food,” he said. “Or at least I did.”

“Same.” She held up another magenta goldfish cracker and tapped it against his green one. “Cheers to weird-looking food. I’ll be that cool aunt who brings over weird-looking food for your kid that’ll make O give me stinkeye for days.”

He snort-laughed. “Octavia told me you and Clarke figured out she was pregnant a while ago.”

“Clarke did. She was around O, after all, while I was still New Yorking. She ran her circumstantial evidence by me when I got here and we both decided that there was a high probability of preg going on.”

“That might be the most meteorological thing I’ve ever heard about pregnancy, and I salute you.” He held a yellow goldfish up and did silly swimming motions with it before he ate it.

“Speaking of forecasts, do you want to find out what what sex the baby is?”

“Nah. We both agreed that’s kind of confining for us and the baby. When the kid shows up, we’ll know more. We’ve got some names picked out that can be gender-neutral, and the kid is always welcome to change the name as they grow. O and I are working on not getting attached to our expectations about our offspring, and allow them to find their own paths.”

“God, if only all parents were as enlightened in that regard, and gave their kids agency like that.”

He shrugged. “I’ve learned some things over the years, I’m glad to say.”

“Hey,” Octavia said and they both looked at her. “Come on and check out some of these paintings. I want Junior—” she pointed at her abdomen, “to apprentice with Clarke for art.”

He laughed. “I think that’s up to Junior, too, though I’m sure Clarke would love it.”

“She totally would,” Clarke said and Lexa tried not to stare at her but failed.

And why wouldn’t she stare? Clarke had pulled her hair into that loose bun that always looked casual but somehow elegant and the pale blue blouse she wore that flowed down her torso and hung loose over the waistband of her jeans brought out her eyes. And holy hell, her jeans. Lexa tried not to stare at those, either, but failed again. Skinny black jeans that hugged her thighs and ass and God, her boots. Also black, but with a historic kind of vibe.

“—another water?”

Lexa jerked back to attention at Lincoln’s question. “I’m good for now. Thanks.”

Octavia smirked at her but didn’t tease her about her obvious stare-job at Clarke. “I’m going to show Lincoln the awesome, now,” she said instead.

He tossed his empty paper cup into a nearby trash can and took Octavia’s hand and let her guide him toward the wall.

“Having fun?” Clarke asked.

“Yes. It’s so cool to watch how excited the kids get and how the parents react. I’m really glad you did this.” She paused. “And you’re driving me crazy,” she added in a low voice.

“Good way or bad?”

“Good because I love looking at you, but bad because I can’t do anything about it right now.”

“I’m having the same feelings about you.” She leaned past her and took a paper cup of goldfish crackers off the table. She smelled crisp and citrusy. “Did you put all these cups out?” she asked as she ate a few of the crackers.

“Yeah. Keeping the goldfish going.”

“Thanks for helping out.” She gave Lexa’s hand a quick squeeze. “Also, you look edible dressed like that.” And she gave her a sexy little grin just as an older woman approached, wearing a flowing red skirt and a denim shirt. Lexa couldn’t remember her name, but Clarke had pointed her out as the Spanish teacher at Polis High.

“Clarke, this is marvelous,” she said. “Can I introduce you to my nephew? He’s interested in art.”

“Absolutely.”

Lexa took the cup of crackers from her and Clarke flashed her an appreciative smile and mouthed “thank you” before she left. Lexa ate a few more crackers then set some more cups out with them, handing a few to kids who came by, then she went to get a better look at some of the art.

A lot of talent, she thought, working her way slowly down the wall from the front to the back. And all kinds of themes. She particularly liked one in the third-grade division. Whoever did it was working on a level above that, because it was a pretty decent pen-and-ink drawing of a castle that reminded her of Hogwarts, but with kind of a cool mysterious vibe, exemplified by the low-hanging clouds.

“Miss Woods?”

Surprised, Lexa turned toward the voice, and she recognized the girl who addressed her even though it had been a couple of years. “Oh, wow. Hi, Molly. And you don’t need to call me Miss Woods. It’s Lexa.”

She smiled, adoration in her eyes and okay, it was super cute.

“Good to see you. How are you?”

She stared up at her, and Lexa appreciated that she was wearing a gray sweater trimmed in blue and bronze, the colors of Ravensclaw House. She had a white collared shirt on underneath that and a tie, also in Ravensclaw colors—Lexa further appreciated that she had gone the book route for the colors.

“That’s my drawing,” Molly said, shy.

“Wow. Congratulations.” She had gotten second place. “I really, really like it.”

“I did it because you told us at summer camp that time that we were your guards at the castle and I like castles.”

“You remember that?”

“I remember lots of things.”

Lexa nodded. “I’ll bet you do. So tell me where you got the idea for this castle, up here on this cliff. Were you thinking about Hogwarts?”

“Kind of. But it’s different.” She pointed at the turrets. “These are different.”

“Yeah. So why did you pick red and black?” She pointed at one of the pennants, realistically waving in an imagined breeze.

“I like them,” she said, no hesitation.

“Not Ravensclaw colors?”

She giggled. “It’s not Harry Potter. And you’d be wearing black there, but you’d have some red, too.”

“That’s a cool combo, but why would I be in this?”

She looked at her like she couldn’t believe she didn’t know. “Because you’re Heda.”

She laughed. “You know, I think you’re the only person who still calls me that.”

“Everybody should call you that,” she said, finality in her tone.

“Why?”

“Because it means leader, and you’re a leader. And you should be in movies or TV.”

“Like in Game of Thrones?”

Molly’s eyes widened. “Yeah. You’d be so much better than everybody in that.”

“Okay, so, wait. You’re watching that?” She tried not to sound horrified that someone Molly’s age would be watching it.

She shrugged. “A little. My brother watches it. He’s in high school.”

“Is he here?”

Molly looked around. “He was. He’s probably still here somewhere. Anyway, you’d be the best in that show.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. So tell me about this world that your castle’s in.”

Molly took Lexa’s hand and started pointing at elements in the drawing, explaining her reasons for depicting them the way she had and for the colors she chose and goddamn, it was one of the cutest things ever, her small hand in Lexa’s, lecturing her about the drawing, making sure she understood.

“Do you think there are dragons in this world you’ve started to create?” Lexa asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not very good yet at drawing those, though.” Her expression was serious and thoughtful and she stared at her drawing, pondering.

“Keep practicing, because I’m pretty sure it’s just a matter of time before you’ll be drawing the best dragons ever.”

“Molly,” a woman said behind them, and her expression was asking whether she was bothering Lexa. She wore a gorgeous African-style matching skirt and shirt and a bright yellow hair band that helped accentuate her afro.

“Mom, this is Miss Woods—Lexa,” Molly said. “She was at summer camp that time when we made a castle out of cardboard.” She didn’t pull her hand out of Lexa’s.

“Hi,” Lexa said. “I was just admiring Molly’s piece, here, and she was telling me the stories behind the different aspects.”

“Oh, of course,” she said with a smile. “Alanna. And Molly could not stop talking about that summer camp. She loved Clarke’s art workshops, but she really enjoyed the castle.”

“I did, too.”

“Hi, Molly. Hi, Alanna,” Clarke said from behind Molly’s mom. “And Molly, I see you found Heda.” And _God_ , the delicious way she smiled. “She thought she saw you earlier,” she said to Lexa, “but then she had to go take some photos with local media.”

“Very cool. You’re famous,” Lexa said to Molly, who grabbed Clarke’s hand with her other hand, and now she held both their hands and Lexa kind of melted at the cuteness of it. And at the expression in Clarke’s eyes.

“Did they ask you any questions?” Clarke said to Molly.

“A couple. One was kind of dumb.”

Alanna raised her eyebrows.

“Oh? What was it?”

She looked up at Lexa again. “A reporter wanted to know if my parents are proud of me. I mean, duh. My mom’s here, isn’t she?” She rolled her eyes in perfect third-grade exasperation and Lexa tried hard not to laugh while a smile tugged at the corner of Clarke’s mouth. Alanna chuckled.

“Adults ask some dumb questions,” Molly added.

Lexa nodded. “This is entirely true. Was the other question good?”

“Oh, yeah. A woman reporter asked it. She wanted to know my process and what my favorite medium is.”

“Oh, that _is_ a good question,” Clarke said. “So do you think we can convince your mom to sign you up for artist summer camp again?”

Molly practically jumped up and down. “Yes, please. Mom? Can I? Please?”

Alanna smiled. “So you’re doing one?”

“Yes,” Clarke said. “Two this year, actually. The first toward the end of June and the second toward the end of July. Tuesday through Saturday again, both times.” She then gave Molly a conspiratorial look. “And I might be able to get Lexa to join camp again.”

Molly let go of Clarke’s hand and grabbed onto Lexa’s with both of hers. “Really? Will you?”

How could she even resist? “I will definitely try. I can’t make any promises because of my job, but I’ll plan for whatever Saturday you’re at camp and hopefully, it’ll work out.”

“Maybe we can make a pirate ship,” Molly said, wide-eyed.

“That is a _great_ idea.” Clarke addressed Alanna, then. “Are you still on my newsletter list? There’ll be information in it.”

“Yes. So I haven’t missed it?”

“No. That’ll goes out the end of this month in that newsletter, and there’ll be a sign-up link in that before I put one on my website. Let me know as soon as possible.”

“Oh, I will. Because I have a feeling you’re going to have a full house both times.” She glanced around the gallery and Lexa figured she was right, given the lingering crowd and the adults still raving about the artwork. “Let me get another picture before we go,” she said to Molly, who reluctantly let go of Lexa’s hand and went to stand by her art. “Your dad has been texting me for more photos.”

Lexa smiled because it made her think about Lincoln’s comments and all the photos he planned to take of his kid.

“Where is he?” Clarke asked.

“Unfortunately, he had to deal with a death in his family.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that. Take a ton of photos.”

“I am.”

Lexa took a photo, too. “Is it okay if we post this on the gallery’s Instagram?” she asked. “If not, I’ll delete it.” She held her phone up so Alanna could see the picture.

“That’s fine, as long as it’s just that. Clarke, will you tag me?”

“You know what, how about a photo with you and Molly for the Instagram instead?” Lexa said.

“Great idea.” Clarke moved out of the way so Alanna and Molly could pose by the artwork.

Lexa took a few photos on her phone then several on Alanna’s.

“Photos with Clarke and Molly, now,” Alanna instructed.

“Yes.” Molly held her arms up like she had just won a competition of some kind and Clarke laughed. They did a couple of serious poses and then a couple of silly ones, and Molly dissolved into giggles and gave Clarke a hug.

“Well done,” Clarke said. “Please keep drawing.”

She nodded and then gave Lexa a hug. “I hope you can come to art camp.”

“Me, too. Clarke will let you know either way.”

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Alanna said to Clarke with a gesture at the wall. “It means a lot to so many.”

“Art is important, and I would like to be a source of encouragement for young people who are looking to express themselves through it.”

“Oh, you are. And good to put a face to a name,” she said to Lexa. “Molly truly loved that day you spent at art camp with her.”

“Well, I had a great time, too. I hope I can do it again.”

Molly grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

“And on that note, we’re going to head home,” Alanna said.

“Keep your eyes open for the newsletter. Bye, Molly.”

“Bye, Clarke. Bye, Heda.”

Lexa grinned. “See you later.” She watched as they left, Molly talking excitedly to Alanna. “If the artists are going to sell their stuff, I want Molly’s.”

Clarke laughed. “I am not surprised at all. And she’ll love that Heda bought it.”

“Oh, my God, stop. Molly’s the only one who calls me that.”

“Not true. She had everybody that day calling you that.”

“Fine. She’s the only one who still calls me that, then.”

“We don’t know that for sure. And it’s cool how she came up with it.” Clarke stared at the image of the castle. “Funny, too, because Raven and I were just talking about that day you came to camp and how you got that name.”

She studied Clarke’s profile, because honestly, who wouldn’t? “Why were you talking about that?”

“That convo I had with Raven over lunch about how O might be pregnant and then the conversation moved to whether Raven wanted kids and she asked if I did and then, of course, Anya came up and—” she turned to look at her. “So did you. Raven remembered you at that camp and how you’re really good with kids.” She cocked her head, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. “But I already knew that. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen you interact with kids. So any time you want to help with art camps, I know someone who could hook you up.” She raised her eyebrows, teasing.

“Oh, well, I definitely want that person’s number.”

Clarke laughed and God, Lexa could live on that sound. “You already have it.” She slid her arm around her waist. “You’ve had my number for years.”

Lexa grinned and pulled her close in a side hug and together they appraised Molly’s drawing for a bit, until another proud parent approached, clearly wanting to talk to Clarke, so Lexa reluctantly released her though she loved the way she held onto her for just a bit longer before she engaged with Art Parent. And while Clarke did that, Lexa helped Willow and Sophia clean up a bit. More people were leaving, which was good since it was almost three, now.

“Hey, we’re outta here,” Octavia said just as Lexa returned from the back, where she had stashed the last package of paper cups. “I’m going to text you and Clarke next week to find out when you can come over for dinner.”

“That would be awesome.” She gave her then Lincoln hugs. “Thanks for coming.”

“Oh, hell, yeah. This was really cool.” Lincoln grinned. “Swear, I might need, like, ten memory cards for photos when our kid starts doing stuff like this.”

Octavia rolled her eyes and smiled. “I can totally tell who’s going to be the pushover parent in this family.”

“And all the pushover Polis crew aunts and uncles,” Lexa said. “I’m so there.” She fist-bumped Lincoln.

“Later,” he said. “Come by the pub when you can.” He started toward the door when another guy stopped him to chat and Octavia mouthed “dudes” at Lexa, and they both laughed.

Octavia zipped her coat then gave Lexa yet another hug. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Same here.”

“Also, I’m working on a Clexa drink at the pub.”

“Uh—”

“Lincoln’s the taster. But thanks for going into concerned pregnancy mode.”

“Get used to it. From all of us.”

“This kid is going to be so damn spoiled,” she said, but she was laughing again and then Lincoln took her hand and they left and Lexa’s gaze immediately went to Clarke, who was chatting with yet another young artist, one of the last remaining. He pointed at something in the painting they were standing near and she nodded and pointed something else out and looked at him, as if ensuring that he understood. He nodded, too, and grinned and Lexa thought that it was still like a dream, being with her, after so many years of wondering if there could be more between them.

Clarke finished her conversation and she caught Lexa’s gaze and smiled in a way that promised much more later before she went to make the rounds and say a few more goodbyes.

“That went pretty well,” she said when the last of art show participants and family left.

“Yeah,” Lexa said. “That was fun.”

“Thanks for helping.” She gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek and oh, how Lexa enjoyed little gestures like that. “We’ll take it from here.”

“You sure?”

Clarke ran her thumb over Lexa’s lower lip, and her touch left sparks in its wake. “As much as I love having you around, I know you’ve got things to do.” She toyed with the buttons on Lexa’s vest. “But I’m hoping I can see you later. In this outfit would be a plus.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Good to know. Dinner?”

“Perfect.”

“Six at my place okay?”

“God, yes.”

“Good. Just bring yourself. I’ve got us covered.”

Clarke kissed her. “You’re the best.” Her phone rang and Lexa went to get her jacket while Clarke talked.

“Cool to hang out with you for a bit,” Willow said to her from the counter, which she was wiping down while Sophia organized the cubby shelves behind it.

“Same to you.”

“Thanks for your help,” Sophia said.

“Sure. This was fun.” She stepped into the back and got her jacket from one of the hooks hanging near the doorway and walked back to the front. Clarke was still on the phone but she reached out to her grabbed her hand for a quick squeeze. “See you later,” she mouthed and Lexa blew her a kiss and left, making sure the door shut behind her. She lingered a moment, Clarke visible through the glass of the door, then she started the walk home, already on countdown until six.

 

###

Clarke did another circuit of the gallery, making sure it was clean and organized after the reception. She clearly didn’t need to worry, because Willow and Sophia were awesome, and so was Lexa, and everything looked great. She paused and studied Molly’s drawing of the castle, and thought again about Lexa with the kids that day two years ago at art camp.

Lexa didn’t know Clarke had been watching her, reveling in her silly and creative side, and how the kids gravitated toward her and the conversations she had with them as they enacted their castle guard adventures. But she had talked about it afterward, and said she’d really enjoyed it, hanging out with kids like that, and Clarke had teased her about her new title, but secretly, she loved it.

Maybe she’d show Lexa her own version of Heda, occupying her tablet in a series of different sketches and poses. Warrior Lexa made her think about the tower, too, that she liked to paint. Her fingers automatically went to the necklace Lexa had gotten her and that made her thoughts go to matching rings—oh, God…too soon?—and tattoos. Maybe the tattoo thing was cheesy, though. Except it would be cool, to have a tattoo of the gear wheel from the necklace on the underside of her wrist or something.

She’d think about that.

Right now, she wanted to lock up and get her ass to Lexa’s. She texted her. _just abt 2 lock up. Will stop at my place 1 st._

The reply came as she was on her way to get her coat.

_Don’t change your clothes._

She stopped and stared at the message, nibbling on her lower lip. Something about it was super hot. _Dare I ask why? [thinking emoji]._ Lexa was working up a reply, so she dimmed the lights, got her coat and bag, and set the alarm. She had just finished locking up from the outside when the texts came, a series.

_Because I love how you looked in them today._

_They’ve been an invitation for me all day to take them off you later._

_Your clothes are a gateway drug, and underneath them you’re a whole other level of beautiful_

_and I want to unwrap you and show you_

_how I feel about you._

_So please, Clarke._

_Don’t change your clothes. [devil horns]_

She had included a selfie at the end and oh, God. From an artist’s perspective, it was well-framed, and she appreciated that in a purely intellectual and aesthetic sense, but holy God, from a pure lust perspective (which of course overruled the other perspective), it showed Lexa from her mouth down to her belt, but she had opened her vest and unbuttoned her shirt to just below her bra, which was just visible, and her lips were curved in one of her smiles…fuck.

And the way her hair fell around her shoulders in this photo…double fuck.

It occurred to her she was still upright, somehow, and thus could respond. So she put her bag down and opened her jacket to expose her shirt and she unbuttoned a couple extra so her necklace showed, resting just above her cleavage. She took a selfie that showed her head to her chest, standing there in the alcove of the front door to her gallery, and even though it didn’t show as much as Lexa had, it still felt deliciously naughty, a suggestive photo like that out in public, though nobody had seen her.

She quickly rebuttoned her shirt and slung her bag over her shoulder before she responded with the selfie and the caption, _all yours_. She followed up with, _just unwrap me slow_. And then she screen-shotted the whole exchange because it was seriously hot in all kinds of ways. Not just physical. Much deeper than that.

She put her phone in her jacket pocket and went to her car, parked a half-block away in a public lot. She had driven today because she had brought everything for the art show, but the remaining stuff was fine at the gallery. And right now, she decided on another errand.

A text came in as she pulled out of the lot but she waited until she had parked in front of Luce’s shop before she checked it.

_Count on it._

“Fuck,” she whispered, electrical currents surging up and down her thighs. And why was she still sitting in her damn car? When Lexa goddamn Woods was on the other end of these texts? She got out and went inside, triggering a soft chime when she opened the door and the smell of fresh flowers filled her senses and soft, calm music emanated from hidden speakers. Walking into Luce’s shop was like entering a secret magical garden, and Clarke half-expected to see fairies flitting about the different flowers that had been set out, artfully arranged in simple metal vases on the floor and tiered shelving. Coolers lined the back wall, filled with explosions of floral color and where the hell were the elves who had to live here?

Luce emerged from the back, wearing her usual faded jeans and loose button-down shirt, but she had a dark blue apron on, too, which made her look like a baker. When she saw her, she smiled.

“Hi, Clarke. Good to see you. And congrats on the write-up in the _Weekly_. That was a great story.”

“Yes, it turned out all right.” Something about Luce and her accent made her try to sound a little more articulate. At least for a few minutes.

“Heard a lot of good things about the student art opening, too. Something about your art seems to make people want to buy flowers, because I had a few in after they finished up at the gallery.”

“What you do is art, too. They’re just continuing their exploration of different media.”

Luce chuckled. “Thanks for appreciating that. So what can I do for you today?” Her eyes might have twinkled.

“I’m having dinner with Lexa and I wanted…something meaningful but simple.” She smiled, sheepish. “And I know you’ll have exactly what I want, even if I’m not sure what that is yet.”

“That’s what I do. So what’s the first flower that comes to mind when you think of her?”

“Red roses. And I know that’s cliché, maybe, but that’s seriously what I think of.”

“It’s never cliché. Red is a timeless, emotional color that speaks to the heart. But let’s talk numbers of red roses, because those play into their meaning when you give them to someone.” She motioned toward the coolers, two of which were dedicated to a spectacular display of roses in several different colors.

“Roses can have different meanings in different contexts. A single red rose given to someone can mean love at first sight—a first date kind of thing—or it can be a declaration of love to that person in years to come.”

“What about two?”

“Mutual love and affection.”

That could work. “What about three?”

“Generally, three represents a couple and their shared love. It’s also a traditional gift on a one-month anniversary.”

“Oh, that’s what I want. Three.” She smiled. “Both of those meanings apply, though it’s a belated one-month anniversary.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Let me get them ready for you. I’ll meet you at the counter.” She opened the cooler and Clarke wandered through the shop, admiring the colorful palette that flowers could create. Luce finished at the cooler and went into the back, and Clarke read Lexa’s texts again, and God, she was melting again. And Jesus, the selfie Lexa had sent. She thought about all the years they’d known each other, and all the photos they’d exchanged, mostly fun and goofy, and she had always wondered if there could ever be something more behind the images.

She stared at the selfie. God, there was so much more.

So much.

“Here you go.”

Clarke jerked her head toward Luce and put her phone away before it got her into trouble. “Oh, wow. That’s beautiful.” Luce had wrapped the three roses in cream-colored paper held closed around them with—oh, my God, really? “Sealing wax? This is amazing,” she said aloud, running her fingertip over the decoration Luce had stamped into it. Two hearts, one overlaid over the other.

“I’m a bit old-fashioned,” she said with a smile as she rang up the purchase on her tablet.

“It’s timeless,” Clarke said. “I love it.” And she also loved that Luce hadn’t put any baby’s breath in or anything else. Just three red roses, each placed slightly lower than the one next to it. Simple and elegant, but an invitation in that sealing wax to break it and find out more. She handed Luce a credit card. “Seriously. This is perfect.”

“Glad you like it.” She ran the card and handed the tablet to Clarke to sign. The receipt would go to Clarke’s phone, since she was on file here.

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Hope you have a good evening.” She handed Clarke a small packet of flower food and smiled in that way she had, like she was sharing a scheme with you.

“Same to you. Hi to Rachel.”

“And hi to Lexa.”

Clarke picked up the roses. “Would you and Rachel like to come over for dinner with us some night?”

Her eyes lit up. “That would be fab. Did you have a day in mind?”

“I’ll have to check with Lexa, but it’ll probably be toward the end of the month or maybe the first week or two in April.”

“Let me check with Rachel and see what we’ve got going on and I’ll text you in the next few days.”

“Great.” She held the roses up. “Thanks again. Talk soon.” She left the shop, trailed by the lingering aroma of flowers, and got into her car.

A few minutes later she pulled into her driveway, grabbed her stuff and the roses and practically ran to the front door. She finished what she needed to do fifteen minutes later, deciding to take a much smaller commuter bag with her tablet, phone, charger cords, wallet, and a few other things that would fit.

No extra clothes, since she sure as hell did not mind doing a walk of shame from Lexa’s house, but somehow, some of her clothes had been ending up there anyway. Lexa kept them in what she had dubbed “Clarkespace” in her bedroom walk-in closet, which a previous owner had designed to look like something out of a California Closet ad, with all of its space-saving shelving and cabinetry. It was _so_ Lexa, and Clarke had teased her that it was probably the one thing that made her want to rent the house. Lexa had just smiled at her and put her things in the drawers of the Clarkespace.

She locked up and started walking, holding the roses and thinking again about Lexa’s interactions with Molly, and about Lexa’s comment a couple weeks ago about how having a kid would be hard but fun with the right person.

And hello, was she actually thinking about parenting? With Lexa?

Maybe, even though she wasn’t quite ready yet, but if she let herself mull it over—if kids were in the cards—she couldn’t think of anyone else she’d want to raise them with than Lexa. She’d admitted that to Raven already, and it wasn’t just because Lexa was a known quantity. It was because…hell, because Lexa was everything and there was nobody else who understood her like she did.

As far as Clarke was concerned, Lexa was _it_. But she knew they needed to grow a little more into this situation, and figure out how things were going to work with both their jobs and their proximity, since they hadn’t really spent this much time around each other since college, and this was an entirely different context.

So far, she was loving it.

But adulting with things like this was important, and she wanted to make sure she did it right.

She turned up the walk to Lexa’s porch, marveling yet again that she was _right here_ , in Polis. Clarke used the key Lexa had given her to let herself in. “Hey,” she called when she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, making sure it was locked.

“In the kitchen,” Lexa called back. “Get in here, woman.”

Clarke laughed. “Be right there.” She put her keys in her bag, which she set on the nearby bench with the roses. Lexa had found it at a flea market the weekend before and it ended up being perfect as a place to set your bags or backpacks or whatever on it. She hung her coat on the coat hook rack near the door, grabbed the roses, and went to the kitchen.

“That smells delicious,” she said as she entered.

Lexa smiled, but kept her gaze on the pan she was using to sauté vegetables, and oh, God, she was still dressed in her clothes from the art show. And the plain black apron she wore somehow made her that much sexier.

“Pasta primavera good with you?” Lexa asked as she turned the burner off.

“You’re seriously asking me that?” Clarke gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Do you want—” she stopped when she saw the roses.

“Happy belated one-month anniversary,” Clarke said as she handed them to her. “And also, your texts inspired me.”

“I was hoping.” She kissed her then ran her fingers down the paper that Luce had wrapped the roses in, and stopped at the sealing wax. “These—they’re beautiful.”

“Luce said three can mean a one-month anniversary but also…” she trailed off, words failing as she fell into the depths of Lexa’s eyes.

“Also…?” Lexa took her hand, and the smile she had right now was reminiscent of the selfie she had sent earlier.

“God, you’re distracting.” She stroked the back of Lexa’s hand with her thumb. “They represent a couple and shared love, so both meanings fit, though I am a bit late on the one-month anniver—”

Lexa kissed her and Clarke lost even more words against the wonder of her lips.

“They’re perfect,” Lexa said softly as she pulled slowly away. “And thank you for not changing your clothes.” Her smile was somehow sweet and sultry, and the glint in her eyes made her ache.

“How could I, after those texts you sent? And that picture?” She kissed her again, slow, and God, she could do this forever.

“I’m glad they worked,” she said as she pulled away, one of her ultra-sexy smiles on her lips.

“Oh, they did.”

Lexa’s smile shifted to one of her devilish smirks. “Let me get a vase.”

“I’ve got it. You take care of that beautiful food.”

She laughed and Clarke took the roses and placed them on a different counter and opened the cabinet where she knew she’d find a couple of cylindrical vases, one thinner than the other, and perfect for a small number of flowers. She got that one out and prepared it with the flower food Luce had given her.

“Want to do the honors?” Clarke asked and Lexa put the roses into the vase.

“These are so beautiful.” Lexa leaned in and smelled them. “I love them.” She cupped Clarke’s cheek. “Happy belated anniversary.”

Clarke covered Lexa’s hand and leaned into her touch. “I kind of like that we don’t do things like other people.”

“You mean on time?”

She laughed. “Okay, yeah. But maybe I’ll want to celebrate our five month and sixteen days anniversary or something and why the hell shouldn’t I?”

“You should totally celebrate that. And whatever the hell else you want.”

“Right now, I would really like to celebrate how fucking delicious you look.”

“It’s the apron, isn’t it?” She raised an eyebrow, which added extra sexy.

“It’s the whole…kitchen thing. You in the goddamn kitchen, dressed like that and looking like that. Why the fuck do I have such a thing for you in kitchens?”

“Just there?” Lexa teased as she ran her hand down Clarke’s arm.

“Of course not. But you have to admit, we have spent a lot of time together in kitchens.”

“Maybe that’s it.” Lexa went back to the stove where she added the vegetables to the pasta. “Wine’s in the fridge.”

“What do you mean?” Clarke asked as she got the wine out and set it on the counter.

“All the time we’ve spent in kitchens. We’ve cooked together almost since we met, and we’ve had bunches of meals together over the years. Plus, the parties we went to—we always ended up in the damn kitchen talking.” She tossed the vegetables and pasta together. “So maybe that’s why we have a thing for each other in kitchens.” She flashed her a grin and Clarke pondered that as she got wine glasses out of the cabinet. So many parties and get-togethers. And sometimes they’d just hang out together, but yes, they often ended up in kitchens, whether it was talking or cooking or helping clean up.

“The kitchen’s the heart of a house,” Lexa said as she took the apron off and hung it on a hook near the fridge. “We’re not the only ones to congregate in it.”

“No, but there’s something special about kitchens where you’re concerned.” She poured wine into their glasses and took them to the dining room, where Lexa had lit several candles, including three short tapers on the table. Two others were on a wooden plant stand near the window and she had hung tea light holders near another window. She had adjusted the track lighting low, so the room felt warm, like twilight in summer.

“I really love your romantic streak,” Clarke called as she set the wine glasses down, one near each shallow bowls Lexa had already set out.

“I love yours, too,” Lexa said as she emerged from the kitchen with the roses and a plate of antipasto that included cheese, olives, and small pita bread triangles. She set the roses and plate on the table and smiled. “Be right back.”

Lexa had already put out a pitcher and water glasses, so Clarke filled them and set the pitcher aside just as Lexa put a big serving bowl of pasta primavera on the table. “Didn’t feel like making crostini,” she said with a sheepish smile and a gesture at the antipasto as she sat down.

“You could give me fucking squishy white sandwich bread and I’d enjoy the fuck out of it,” Clarke said as she sat, too, and picked up Lexa’s plate to serve her pasta. “And this is so perfect.”

“You haven’t tasted it yet. Squishy white bread might be better,” she teased.

“Not a freaking chance.” She handed the plate to Lexa then served herself and picked up her wine glass. “To this amazing dinner, made by an amazing woman.”

“To the amazing woman sharing it with me.” She clinked her glass against Clarke’s and they both sipped.

Clarke took a bite of the pasta. “God, that’s _so_ good. Have I told you lately how much I love that you cook?”

“Not since last week.” She took took a few olives and pieces of cheese off the antipasto plate and put them all on one of the appetizer plates she had set out.

“Well, here’s my weekly announcement about that. I love that you cook.”

“Thank you. And I love that _you_ cook. Makes kitchens lots of fun.” She smirked and picked up her wine and Clarke watched her, as they ate, and envisioned slowly unbuttoning her vest and then her shirt.

“You know, if you dressed like that for a courtroom, you’d win every case.”

She chuckled. “You might be biased.”

“I’m an artist. I appreciate aesthetics.” She put a couple of olives and pieces of cheese and pita on her own appetizer plate.

“Oh, is that what it is?”

She smiled. “Fine. I might be biased. But objectively speaking, pretty sure nobody would disagree.”

Lexa sipped her wine, regarding her over the rim of her glass, expression almost territorial and fuck, it was hot. “Says the incredibly beautiful artist. In that shirt. And those jeans.”

“That you’ll be removing later,” Clarke teased, the thought making waves of heat roll down her thighs.

“Definitely.” She gave her a cocky little grin and Clarke stared at her lips then eyes, transfixed. Lexa’s grin widened and she set her glass down and continued eating.

“Seriously. You are the most distracting person I know,” she said as she drank some water, as if that could somehow put out the fire that was only growing within.

Lexa served herself a little more pasta before she responded. “And _you_ are the most distracting person _I_ know, so we can basically just be distracted together.”

“I am a huge fan of this arrangement. Please keep distracting me.”

“I plan to.” And there was that expression again, the intense, almost territorial one that caused all kinds of sparks to race up and down Clarke’s spine.

“More?” Lexa gestured at Clarke’s nearly empty dish.

“Yes. It’s so good.”

“Do you remember the first time we cooked together?” she asked as she served her.

“That night at Octavia’s about a month after we met? That was totally unplanned.”

Lexa sat back with her wine. “We raided her fridge because we were all basically broke and it was cold and rainy out.”

“We came up with tuna melts on those nearly stale English muffins. Thank God she had cheese.” She smiled, remembering Lexa’s victory dance when she found the can of tuna.

“They weren’t bad, washed down with that beer O had.”

“Oh, God, that was worse than the shitty beer I normally drank. What the hell did we put in that tuna? I know O had salt and paprika. Oh, and mustard and mayo.”

“And olives. Those green ones out of the jar. I added some of the brine from the jar.”

“Fuck, that’s right. And I learned something that night because I’d never thought to put olives in tuna salad. I liked it better with that then the more traditional kind with celery.”

“O actually had celery, but it looked like a science experiment.”

Clarke laughed.

“Still, I’ve never been a fan of celery in tuna salad. Or chicken salad. I’m more a savory type.”

“No argument here,” Clarke said with a smirk and Lexa raised her eyebrows playfully. She took another bite of pasta, thinking about their college days. “It was about a month after that when I stopped by your place to drop that book off I had borrowed from you. I remember you opened the door and you were holding a wooden spoon.”

She chuckled. “I was making lasagna.”

“And you invited me into the kitchen while you worked on it and I ended up helping you.”

“Yeah. I figured if you were helping me, you couldn’t leave right away.” She shrugged, sheepish.

“Aww. Well, I was glad for the invite because I wanted to spend some one-on-one time with you.” She paused. “That might actually be the more relevant first time cooking together situation, was that lasagna at your house. Which we just did for New Year’s, too.”

“Are you saying that might be a thing with us?”

“We _have_ made a few lasagnas over the years.” Clarke finished her last bite of pasta and ate another olive.

“That’s because it’s the perfect dish to cook together. And pizza. We’re good with that, too.”

“I think we’re pretty good with a lot of things.” She sipped her wine, thinking about the first time they’d kissed, and it still made her weak.

“Yeah. And I think that first time you helped me make the lasagna demonstrated that.”

“I like cooking. It was something my family always did together, even after my dad died.” She sighed. “And okay, maybe that stopped a bit during the stretch where my mom and I were having issues.” She held Lexa’s gaze. “Maybe that’s why I have such a thing for you and kitchens, because we started cooking together and it was fun at first, but also really calming for me when I was going through shit.”

“That’s a nice thought. I like being your calmspace.”

“God, you so are.” And maybe that was when she started to fall for Lexa, was the times they spent in kitchens cooking together and in kitchens at parties talking and laughing or arguing about some theory. “You’ve been my calmspace since I met you.”

“You’ve been mine. Those first months after I met you, I knew I liked you and you made me laugh and feel comfortable. And you already knew how to cook, so all I had to do was tell you where things were in my kitchen.”

“That first lasagna was when I learned that you’re kind of particular about your kitchens.”

She laughed. “In what way?”

“Everything has a place and a purpose. In another life, I think you were a top chef somewhere. Even with college budget cooking stuff, you’re super-organized with your kitchen.”

“Or maybe I just like knowing where things are when I’m cooking.”

“Could be. And maybe you didn’t have a lot of room growing up so you became really good at minimizing space and using every little bit of it you got.”

She sipped, expression thoughtful. “That, I think.”

Clarke took her hand. “Well, you can spread your shit out wherever the fuck you want here. And at my house. In fact, I would love it if you did that.” Oh, wait. Did that sound a little too move-in-ish?

She cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “Same goes for you. My space is Clarkespace. But I might retain my minimalist streak, at least for a while.”

“I don’t think you’d be you without it,” she teased. “And all these years, you seem fine with my more chaotic artist approach to things.”

“More than fine. I love that you’re an artist.”

“And that’s another reason I fell for you, that you’ve always supported my art thing.”

She smiled, expression somehow playful but sultry. “I love your art thing. In fact—” she set her wine glass down and moved her chair closer. “I love watching you when you’re at the gallery,” she said. “In your element. All these years, I never really got to do that and now that I am—that I _can_ —I can’t get enough. Every day I get to be around you like this is more than I ever thought could happen, and now here I am, having dinner with you for the fourth night in a row.” She paused, as if thinking about her next words. “And I’m seeing all the ways the facets of your life fit together in real time, not just in texts or calls or visits when we have time, and I can’t get enough.” She kissed the back of her hand. “I know it hasn’t quite been a month since I got here, but I am seriously loving this.”

“And I just fell in love with you all over again.”

“Welcome to my world, where I am so completely in love with you that even the fluffiest holiday rom coms have heart eyes when I think about you.”

Clarke laughed. “Wow. Those are some feels.”

“Exactly. All about you.”

“God, I’m lucky.” She leaned in and kissed her, reveling in the softness of her lips and tongue, and she tasted like wine and possibility and Clarke was lost, gone, completely head over heels for her.

“So am I. And right now, I’m thinking about the selfie you sent me this evening,” Lexa said between kisses. “And your texts.”

“Good things, I hope.” God, she could _not_ stop kissing her and her arousal soared.

“Very, very good.”

Clarke finally forced herself to pull away, but Lexa didn’t make it easy. “Okay, I’m going to put the food away now. And then we can continue this conversation.”

Lexa snuck another kiss in.

“Or maybe we don’t have to talk at all,” she said, kissing her back.

“Mmm. I like how you think.”

“Goddammit, Lexa,” she whispered between another round of kisses. “You’re making cleaning up really hard.”

“Say it again,” she said softly, lips so close Clarke felt her breath on her mouth.

“What?”

“My name.”

She gave her a flirtatious smile. “Lexa,” she said, drawing it out a little.

“Fuck, I love how my name sounds when you say it.”

“Well, Lexa,” she said with extra flirtatiousness, “the sooner I get this cleaned up, the sooner you can take me to bed.”

“Mmm. How about the sooner _we_ get this cleaned up.” She gently bit down on Clarke’s lower lip then stood and picked up their bowls and Clarke barely managed to get up on her own accord. Lexa goddamn Woods had that effect on her. She took the pasta bowl and the antipasto into the kitchen and put the leftovers into containers for the fridge, trying not to stare at her because that would only distract her.

She hummed along with the slow song that was playing and loaded some dishes into the dishwasher. Lexa was singing along in the dining room and she brought the glasses in and sang the chorus with her, something they had done countless times in the past but it seemed imbued with extra meaning now, and Lexa pulled her close and they danced, softly singing together.

The song ended and transitioned to another slow one and Clarke put her head on Lexa’s shoulder as they moved, and fuck, she wanted to bottle this moment and save it forever.

“God, I love that you’re here,” she said as she stroked Lexa’s back, and she really wanted to unbutton the thin layers of fabric between them, which were still too much.

“So do I.”

“And you look _so_ hot.”

Lexa chuckled. “You say that every time you see me. Not that I’m complaining.”

“That’s because you’re just fucking hot in general, but sometimes it’s extra and damn, when you showed up at the gallery today dressed like this…” she kissed her neck and Lexa made a sexy little noise.

“It’s hard, sometimes, for me to breathe when I see you,” she said. “And that’s only gotten stronger since Christmas.” She made another soft noise as Clarke kissed her neck again. “I don’t think you…mmm…realize the…uh…effect you have on me.”

“I might be able to guess, if it’s anything like what you do to me.” And it seemed that she was always aroused these days, always ready to undress her and explore again. Like a dam had broken, and she was only too aware of how wet she already was, moving slowly with Lexa to the music, tracing the lines of muscles down her back beneath her clothes with her fingers.

Only too aware.

“I believe I told you I wanted to undress you,” Lexa said, and her voice had that little husky edge she got when she had all kinds of delicious things planned for her.

“Now that you mention it, yeah. You did.” She pulled back a little so she could look at her and fuck, her smile.

“So, Clarke…” Lexa said as she undid the the first button on her shirt. “I’d really like to continue this upstairs.”

“You had me at Clarke. And those texts.”

She grinned and undid the second button then gently kissed her collarbone and there was nowhere Lexa would go that Clarke wouldn’t follow.

“Okay, you had me from the very beginning, though it took me a few years to figure it out.”

She laughed softly and kissed her before she took both her hands and pulled her gently with her out of the kitchen but they didn’t get very far past that because Clarke had to kiss her again.

Somehow they made it to the stairs, where Clarke undid a couple of the buttons on Lexa’s vest before they made it to her room, where a few pillar candles already burned, casting soft shadows against the walls and ceiling.

Lexa unfastened the rest of the buttons on Clarke’s shirt, taking her time, and the anticipation was a turn-on, too. As badly as Clarke wanted her against her without the barrier of clothing, she really enjoyed the build-up and now Lexa’s hands were on her belt buckle, which didn’t stay buckled very long.

She started to take her necklace off but Lexa stopped her.

“Don’t. I like seeing it on you.” She moved her hands to the waistband of Clarke’s jeans, gaze boring into hers. “And I was thinking that in a few days it’s going to officially be the first day of spring.” And then she unbuttoned her jeans.

“What are you suggesting?” Clarke asked, biting her lip as Lexa slowly unzipped her jeans.

“Seems some kind of commemoration of that might be in order.” She caught and held her gaze.

“I’m game.” She undid the last two buttons on Lexa’s vest and half of the buttons on her shirt.

“All right, then,” she said, a particularly sexy smirk on her lips. “You want to make spring time our bitch, too?”

She pulled Lexa’s shirt out of her pants. “Always.” She kissed her. “And summer, while we’re at it.”

Lexa pushed Clarke’s shirt off her shoulders. “The Fourth of July?” she asked, a cute hopeful expression in her eyes.

“Definitely,” she said softly as she finished unbuttoning Lexa’s shirt. “Labor Day, too.” And God, the way she looked in the candlelight, her shirt and vest open, exposing her bra, expression both heated and vulnerable.

“That sounds like some long-term talk,” Lexa said, her fingers grazing Clarke’s underwear as she finished unzipping her jeans.

Clarke put her hands over Lexa’s, stopping their movement. “Does that make you nervous?”

“Hell, no. And I will be adding Halloween and Thanksgiving to our make-it-our-bitch calendar.”

“So…just to be clear, we’re doing this.” She stared into her eyes, heart pounding. “I mean, that is, we’re going to see where this goes.”

Lexa regarded her for a moment then pulled her hands out from under Clarke’s and cupped her face. “Yes.” She kissed her and a million little explosions went off in her chest. “Yes, Clarke, we’re doing this. I didn’t come this far not to.” She ran her hands down her bare arms and her touch was more than enough to make heat gather at her core again.

“Good. Because I would hate to think this was a wasted move to Polis.” She smiled and unbuckled Lexa’s belt.

“Not a chance.” She shrugged out of her shirt and vest and God, she was beautiful, standing there in just a bra, hair touseled around her shoulders, the expression in her eyes both devilish and protective. No matter how many times Clarke saw her like this, it always took her breath away.

“Then I want to make this whole fucking year our bitch.”

“Doable. How about we continue with that now?” She pulled her close, and Clarke might have moaned a little, at the contact of their bare skin.

“I’m in.” She was talking about much more than just this night, and she saw in Lexa’s eyes that she knew it, too.

“So am I.”

And Clarke knew they were both talking about a lot more than a night, and about a lot more than a year. And God, she was ready.

After all this time, she was more than ready. And in the way Lexa looked at her, in the way she touched her and kissed her in a freefall of desire and care, Clarke knew she was ready, too.

They were definitely going to make this whole fucking year their bitch.

And she couldn’t wait.

 

_end_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you go! Thanks for your patience. I've decided to end this here, because there's room for some one-shots that follow up in this particular 'verse but I like ending on a fun, fluffy, romantic note that leaves room for lots of possibility.
> 
> And clearly, I still have a thing for food, goddammit. If you've read "bang shui," you'll see it seems to have started there. LOL (shout-out to the movie Goonies in the name of the Italian restaurant...heh)
> 
> Thanks so much for joining me on this fluff-trip (in today's clusterfuck of a world, I find some relief in writing fluff) and I hope you'll join me in other fanfic journeys.


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